I am buried in deadlines.
It seems that
The sun will shine late
Tomorrow.
But there will be tomorrow,
There will be my path
In the rush hour.
Early morning sweaty bus,
Water not dripping
From my bathroom faucet.
My thoughts sleep
While I stand.
I am an exhausted old lamp post
Without current passing in its veins.
The keys in my laptop were busy.
They rest now,
I cannot rest without them.
An escapist wind
Blows and my poetry pages
Remain inkless.
Words can blow away your mind,
I only write poetry
And push my article deadline
For many dawning and dusking
For many shining and setting
For many raining and drying
Like many start and shutdown
Of my laptop.
Copyright Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor