On Wednesdays I do my washing;

In my basket is routine.

As the machine gently spins

And gurgles satisfaction

I do some work at the table

Or read a book on the sofa

And quietly pretend that I’m living with purpose;

That I’m not hurtling towards

An immense inconclusion.

Share:

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on pinterest
Pinterest
Share on linkedin
LinkedIn

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

On Key

Related Posts

Indigo

Yearning, losing, and memory: Aysha explores the lasting impact of love through poetry.

So Celestial

Sadiyya paints a picture of intimacy and connection through a poetic exploration of love and space.

As an Indian, I am privileged to love.

Aaina explores how for many Indians, love is less a private choice than a controlled privilege, shaped by family, caste, class and power rather than individual freedom.

scroll to top