Wrong Time
Every morning, he feels tired,
He gets annoyed, when she calls,
Children are getting late,
Hardly he opens his eyes,
And switches on the light,
Bloody, ’Eight ‘o clock’.
He bounced to his bed,
And knee down to hike up,
The naked shivering legs.
Have you teeth brushed? A noise crumbled,
‘Give me a cup of tea’, I am late.
He drank a cup with a hoop of breath,
And pushed children to get seated.
Hard noise kills the freshness of morning,
He runs down to the school.
Signals were pointing red,
He was annoyed in a queue,
His accelerating was disturbing a noise,
His patience was out of rage.
Council worker was removing rubbish,
Traffic was very slow,
He was trying to fly over the jam.
How do people dare to keep cats?
He scratches his nose.
He looks through the mirror,
Scared children were dying in a patience pool.
Hardly he reached at home.
Could you drop me at the bus stop? Please,
She urged, ‘ I am late.
He was chewing the words,
He rushed again.
He has few nice cut,
Bleeding was kissing the lips.
He used toilet tissues,
But blood was filling colour on shaved smooth skin,
Hardly he left ten minutes.
Without eating he rushed again to his office.
As usual he has no parking space.
Every evening, he enjoys his drinks,
His lovely chat offering him a enjoyable company,
He never finds a cause of his tiredness,
He always blames,’ wrong time, ‘he is on a wrong place’.
Always he strangled his neck with his tie.
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2006
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