• Shauryasikt Jena

That Day

The passers-by unseen,

their random chatter unheard,

he walked on to where duty called.

His overflowing mind strained

much like his bulging bag, unnoticed.

Split open, the bag did, spilling it's load

and now his mind close to bursting,

he bent down to gather what he could.

His eyes found a page, astray

different from office, forgotten.

His lateness raging like sirens

somehow subsided, for he soon

found the book where it belonged.

Scooping the rest, he found a bench

and set upon tales he'd forgotten he knew.

An image from his childhood

of valiant heroes and ghastly villains

of noble lords and wise crones

blurred the line in his mind,

separating reality.

Morning sunshine dissolved to scorching day,

and evening soon took over.

He was too lost to care

finding solace he never sought

in a world, both strange and familiar.

The pages ended, plunging him out.

He realised the work was missed

he once rushed to, unthinking.

At dusk, it dawned on him how

he'd spent his life's tale, Unliving.

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