Feeling hungry, I head for a walk,
A walk to the lovely night canteen,
A nice fried egg, a side of chicken rice,
No wonder my belly screams "not so lean".
But this is fine, for the rumbling's gone,
And my face makes a face for 'happy happy time'.
Then a visitor arrives with a greeting warm,
Grab a drink, not alcoholic but of lime.
Then I bid farewell for sleep does call,
After a tiring week spent in many exam halls,
With a coke in hand, the other in pocket,
Back on the road, no tripping, no fall.
But an empty road does call for thought,
Of words strung together, a ritual of sort,
My pace does slow, but it is fine after all,
The beauty of the night is the reward I have got.
Companied by the sound of my slow dragging feet,
The eyes dart from sleeping walls to creaking twigs,
A light breeze makes the wary trees whisper,
Of the roads I have tread, and of the many coming leagues.
Thoughts churn under the dim street lights,
Of the girl who once asked to hold hands together,
And walk in the silent embrace of the night,
But far she is and has been since forever.
With lonely thought, the troll ends his stroll,
Wash my face once, in the mirror set my gaze,
Break it with a lifeless smirk, a humourless face,
Then retire to my room, dark are the ways.
But some words were brewn, and a pen unscrews,
A disaster of a poem my fingers spew,
But emotions they do carry, though very coarse,
For such emotions thrive best, in moments few.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 11:05 AM UTC
Feeling hungry, I head for a walk,
A walk to the lovely night canteen,
A nice fried egg, a side of chicken rice,
No wonder my belly screams "not so lean".
But this is fine, for the rumbling's gone,
And my face makes a face for 'happy happy time'.
Then a visitor arrives with a greeting warm,
Grab a drink, not alcoholic but of lime.
Then I bid farewell for sleep does call,
After a tiring week spent in many exam halls,
With a coke in hand, the other in pocket,
Back on the road, no tripping, no fall.
But an empty road does call for thought,
Of words strung together, a ritual of sort,
My pace does slow, but it is fine after all,
The beauty of the night is the reward I have got.
Companied by the sound of my slow dragging feet,
The eyes dart from sleeping walls to creaking twigs,
A light breeze makes the wary trees whisper,
Of the roads I have tread, and of the many coming leagues.
Thoughts churn under the dim street lights,
Of the girl who once asked to hold hands together,
And walk in the silent embrace of the night,
But far she is and has been since forever.
With lonely thought, the troll ends his stroll,
Wash my face once, in the mirror set my gaze,
Break it with a lifeless smirk, a humourless face,
Then retire to my room, dark are the ways.
But some words were brewn, and a pen unscrews,
A disaster of a poem my fingers spew,
But emotions they do carry, though very coarse,
For such emotions thrive best, in moments few.
