It is early in the morning
my eyes start roving
while the body is at rest.
Unwilling to rise up
the mind travels
back and forth.
Being a syndrome
of late, I recall
the past
Knowing very well
there could be no validity
to think of the bygone.
Unable to suppress
the thoughts I turn
nostalgic.
At times I laugh,
other times cry
little dramatic in all.
The duties, not
so pressing as of before,
call me.
Reluctantly I get up
perform the chores
with far less attention.
Meticulous I had been,
now I am a shadow
of what I was.
Such being the status
I carry on with no merit
or credit whatsoever.
Meenas Poems 