The same day with the same familiar smell
I have breathed for long.
When one day ends, another hurries.
Days are always in quick succession.
None waits even a second.
They are vying one another
To occupy my space.
As if one holds a promise
That others can’t offer.
All want to affect something
That memory could carry forever.
I don’t remember
If any day different from other.
Or had set a benchmark?
All seem to have the same
Shape and Shade, Texture and Trick.
Pushing and shoving one another
In hope of getting a better treatment.
Alas! That they never receive.
Tried, Tired, Tensed and Terrified
The sundown and the hopeless Night.
Is there any space or scope left for