In Your Bad Books
The other day, for a brief moment
I recalled my good old times,
Where the bleakest of the panorama
And an eeyorish of the memories,
Invaded a hopeless hypocrite
As the strength faded away,
Faking the funk with brightest of looks,
It took me a little while to realise
That I saw my name in your bad books.
Clouds were dense over the horizon
I saw the hailstones coming by,
When closed chapters went forthwith
A short coup d’oeil of my part, I found
All again in one of the ripped pages
Where my effete, affected affinity
Followed the longest end of the stream,
I saw my name that said some story
As short, as a happiest winsome dream.
I let the thousand flowers bloom
When I judged my story, my worth
I let you judge my weakness as well
Yet not aware of who I truly am
I continued reading my name, my part,
With tattered pages, in your bad books
My hands were stiff, but not frozen,
Withal I believed the words of wisdom
Many are called but few are chosen.
Howbeit, with time and impression
Anon I learned, I learned to prevail
Your concern is now apathetic
Your prospect is blithely untroubled
Because I was the author of my story,
And not you, neither am I shaken
I pray, Almighty shall bless your head,
Owing to the fact, that, Halfwits
Do rush in where angels fear to tread.
And so here I am,
The story unhooks
I do not worry to give a quick glance
In your bad books.
Copyright © Daksha Nair | Year Posted 2020
|