New Year

The morning seems like late night.

The noon sun shines ever bright.

The haze dissolves as dusk falls

to once again blur my sight.

Tailor

 

The tailor sits on the street

zealously stitching away.

He hums to the sewings’ beats-

black, blue, green, purple and grey.

People come to stitch their clothes-

rush and are in a hurry.

He takes his time to reclothe,

and mends the torn and weary.

A smile replaces their frowns

but he cannot crown a clown.

Chatter

 

Chirps of the birds wake me up-

a new day has just begun.

Steaming coffee the sleep slurps-

labours of the day summon.

Radio blares known and unknown.

Once a sweet voice now a noise.

Truth varies from picture shown,

and tells you you have a choice. 

I seek mews of a seagull-

mills and trains sound a bugle.