The Fields – #36 of 365 Poems

The desk where I sit has just a lamp now;
under which at night I used to scribble.
The waste basket next to my desk still has –
a whole lot of crumbled sheets
on which I had scribbled.

The window next to the desk –
from where I could see people walking in the fields.
That is broken.
And now
you can see people even when they are closed.
The fields are missing,
replaced by huge apartment buildings.

The interesting thing is I don’t use that desk anymore;
I live in one of those apartment buildings.
Here I have a better desk, an unbroken window and even a fancy waste basket.
but as I said the fields are missing.

But the guy who used that desk long ago,
still resides in me;
not willing to live in the apartments
he lives inside me but outside my apartment.

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Categories: Poetry

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