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I love Thursdays for no particular reasons at all. My dad loved them too, my religious uncle used to love it too.  We used to pray after sunset during Thursday together. Now I am all alone, my uncle beat my dad by dying earlier. They were both great men, very strong morally and physically. Their influence in making me think very freely was amazing. I truly miss them. Those guiding hands, soft speaking nature and patience.

  This poem was not about them at all. It was a just another day. Nothing to remember about that Thursday. Still on Friday I wrote this poem about what I thought through the day.




Hand in hand with the wind came, light,

They danced, they hugged, they kissed,

And forever in love they drowned,

Yeah, into my mind, through my eyes the light came,

Into my ear, the wind sung a lullaby.


“Oh’ what a morning” said I, when upon the bed I rolled,

Never ending was not the bed, I learned,

When fell down on to the floor,

Squeezing my back, I walked into the toilet,

And squeezing my back I walked out all refreshed.


Named the day, the day of the fall,

As slowly, the day peeled away,

Where did the remnants go, I don’t know,

Past is a monster that consumes and in mocking smiles,

Nothing can be done but to move away and be hunted.


The evening in routine came in and fell pray,

To that monster past like a relentless serpent haunts,

The future Oh’ dark it looks now with night comes,

Through the window as usual I looked,

And to my fate asked “Is there a star out there,

That sheds light from the future back at me?”

Silence spreads fear, so I the radio I turned on,

Listening to the hard rock songs, I welcomed,

The darkness into my soul that adopted,

Me for the night, and not knowing, how many nights more.



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