Its dawn with trees, laughing birds
The opened doors of washrooms,water dripping as icy silence in basins
Its her laptop on side table,the waking for the day
The kitchen in its conversations for the things yet to come
She rides off outside,a turmoil in her mind
Roads of competition,old same tale

He ,s leaving for his office with grief from last night
Boiling tired stories circling in mind
The hollow blank streets have usual touch
A touch of coming going,serenity with rush
He ,s leaving for his office,he,s leaving home
She rides down the avenue,mascara in her eyes

In open universities,children turned to students
Clocks on the walls,grasses light and young
Some are penning down visions on pages
Some roam round the corridors unmeddled for ages

He comes back home,she rides back home
The students weary laden ,with bags of the hopes,crushing rattled miseries
They,re all back in rooms,they,re now alone
Lie down on warm beds,think of the projects
American dreams sparkling in brains

So where,s their future,where,s their past
The present,s dissolved, in bricks of their houses
Its baked in the blood ,as cakes in the heap
Who cares for the future,they,re sluggish,lousing
They,re burning in curious thoughts for tomorrows
They,ll rise once again to ancient storms of sorrows

(written when my mom cooks ometette)