A Binder

The class was going on. The professor was discussing about topics, special magnet topics. And I was sitting there, dumb and frozen, way after the class ended. A real headache. Her story was getting clamped in a binder. Elderly healthcare, and lost lives in failure of loneliness. And I was asking my mirror image an obvious question. Is my work meaningful? The songs were filling the blanks. Empty hours in an empty room. Where my English is not. And the songs are not, too. But we are destined to tango on. We all are. In many ways. In dumber ways. In utter stupidity. In foolishness. In walking steps. Keep walking. Keep running. Keep being hopeful.