My travel bag stares at me
I turn away.
It is been lying for
a while, 20 days.
I move around with ease
Journey is not in my mind.
The day before my eyes
fall on the bag.
I pluck my vision
with a pull.
Fear slowly mounts.
I sigh.
Has the time come
for another sojourn?
Exasperated I recline.
I expect a call any moment.
Meenas Poems 