Each day I pass with hopes on tomorrow, Yet tomorrow never comes and days pass in a row

Each day I pass with hopes on tomorrow,

Yet tomorrow never comes and days pass in a row.

Someday I forget to sleep; someday I forget to wake-up,

Someday I am high and someday just too tangled up.

So for each present day I procrastinate things,

With hopes on tomorrow and my invisible wings.

I don’t have a job, yet I feel no less than a king,

Conceiving, admiring and believing there’s no better a thing.

Sometimes I pity, sometimes I regret and sometimes feel ashamed,

And yet in another moment I think one day I’ll be acknowledged, adored and famed.

The worries fly away in a jiffy and I close down my plans-for-the-day,

In wonderful dreams I sleep while the saying goes- ‘while sunshine make hay.’

Often when I finish a book or a movie I feel so inspired,

I clean my room, organize my schedule and find myself hired.

All it takes is a day for the sun of hopes to set down,

And the routine follows: Up-Eat-and-Down.

Two more days and the room again becomes a mess,

Eyes back on the ceiling and ears on jazz.

Not every day is smooth and there are hard times too,

Often when people ask- ‘What do you do?’

My parents stand beside them and wonder why I look tensed,

Up with a smile I tell, ‘Umm.. preparing for defense.’

‘Good luck!’ they say and move ahead,

My mother hugs me and I feel blessed.

There I vow to inherit change and do things that I haven’t done yet,

I clean my room, sort-out my books and see the sun set.

I pick a book and try hard not to lose sight,

But I yawn, scratch and miss the day light.

I take a break and think if it’ll be right...

…to close the book only for the night!

A chair by the wall and the table too far, My bed in the center and the switch so far

A chair by the wall and the table too far

My bed in the center and the switch so far.

How hard I convince, my body doesn’t respond,

To make a slipping way through the clustered mound.

I lay awake in a passerby’s hope to turn off the lights,

Though lazy I might seem, but my hopes have never-ending heights.

The bulb distracts my sleep, and yet I won’t bubble,

The light strikes with its might and in a pillow I cuddle.

My eyes feel the piercing effect, and I shut them as hard as I can,

And just hope for someone to pass, a lady or a man.

I turn sides in restlessness with hopes for a nap,

Oh! I so much miss a dark room and my mother’s lap.

An hour passes by and I am struggling to sleep,

It’s two in the morning and yet hopes of a passerby are deep.

I hear my friends giggle in the next room,

And just hope someone comes to turn off my illuminated doom.

I pull over a blanket to cover my face,

But, the striking light does not grace.

I curl in and curl out; I turn over and turn about,

In restlessness and despair I make a pleading shout.

But it fades off in the noise around,

Like a squeak ends in the roar of a hound.

With half shut eyes I hope of my redemption,

For an angel to come and perform the sacred action.

And then I hear approaching footsteps from the farthest end,

Waiting for the moment to come my heart lay quenched.

As he passed by my door, for his help I yelled,

Which perhaps in his haste he missed.

I quickly turned my side to catch a glimpse of him,

Perhaps another word could make the lights dim.

But all I saw was emptiness,

And the footsteps had faded away with momentarily happiness.

I lay half-slept, half awake staring at- the chair by the wall and the table too far,

My bed in the center and the switch so far.