When dawn is dark, mornings are grey
Noon-times are dreaming thoughts Zen
Evenings at Not Just Jazz By The Bay
You’re sleepy by eight, sleeping by ten.
Just one more hour in bed is three
Your joints wake up later than you
Your eyes cannot see, for your lids are not free
And morning lectures have a crowd of two.
A boil that fogs the shower stall
Morning walkers in muffler-ed bliss
A woollen shawl, monkey caps too small
An extra blanket is never amiss.
When a quart of brandy, is just rum
Hands round a steaming dabba linger
Kaanda-bhaji is yum, vada-pav ho-hum
A tea-cup cocked in a happy finger.
Holidays spent in wanton much-merry’s
End-of-year sales we do admire
Christmas at Mount Mary’s, Elephanta ferries
Bahadur toasting his hands on a fire.
By the time you flip the page to Jan
And into your childhood sweaters fit
Open windows ban, turn off the fan
Winter’s gone before you know it.
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