you are an obedient kid,
who would mix exactly 2 spoons of protein
to his already warm milk
and not find himself stuck
between 1 and 3 as he thinks
this chosen concentration would
empower some superman strength
to fight bullies at school.
you are at ease,
sitting against a broken chair,
rhyming with your dreams,
wanting to put an end to what seems
an infinite loop of failures;
a lost cause
on a stranded island with a seine net,
craving for the salmons of success.
And you decide to put on an attire
dipped in good luck’s charm.
Pushed the unconfident clouds
to capitalize on an itchy palm.
having witnessed many springs and autumns;
encountered magpies and horseshoes,
you are starting to believe
the vows of lies
around the broken mirrors,
but still, refrain yourself
from avoiding the multiples of seven.
You think about left not being the
right foot forward,
and get away with it easily
only to get paralyzed at your desk.
you are carrying a rucksack of experiences,
a proven wanderer of fate’s
most exciting adventure.
In your possible twilight years,
tried to bury
the thoughts of having jinxed
a neat spell of purple patch,
when you see your son
holding old shin pads
as four leaf clovers,
they’ll guide him home
as they once guided you
and you were just awkwardly fine.
Written by: Ayush Arya