A good morning

On the porch of Monday, passes the week. A laziness borrowed over from the weekend I start the week. Hoping to see the eyes, the smile that has grown indifferent to me. The day spent mostly brooding over the monotonous office work, same dirty desk, filthy code. They add up to the pain of the moment. Then I see the face smiling, slowing and blushing. At me. The day fades. Fades the smile, glow and the blush. The dusk comes in quite swiftly. Brings in the sense of a lost day. The same indifference is re-uttered. Refusal, the hands move. Initially close then away. The chill air blowing with the running wheels of the bike. make you feel cold. No warm. Just cold. The words hurt. The actions hurt. The day hurts. And I hate the day. It passes away with flying time. Comes in the night. And a smile. My smile is like a panacea. The day is erased. My mind is skilled in it. Forgetting. It helps. The night brings in another smile. Of the motion of the hands from away to closer. to hold up. To cling together. Night brings dream. Dream brings the hands closer. And starts a good morning. From away to closer. A real good morning.

Truly
Abinash