Isabel sits on the rusted garden bench,
my heart misses a beat, yet again as I watch,
her eyes are downcast, it's late afternoon,
she looks **** tired, dishevelled, distraught.

The world is on a slide, going bad to worse,
believe me i could see premature grey in her coiffure,
she is fired from her job, I can guess,
it hits me hard to think she is inconsolable.
Then, we all are, who is secure these days!

Under a tree, with withered leaves, she sits,
climatic change, obviously is playing havoc with it,
the evening sun, just slanted westwards,
seems unusually cruel to this girl,
no cover of thick foliage, moreover.

I see children playing around Isabel,
even they are soon losing interest,
if mirthful they are, make some noise and
run around, she would have smiled,
I would have felt far better than this!

Well, I don't know Isabel, may be her name is different,
on evenings I used to watch her from afar,
with curious eyes, I admired her incomparable elan,
hoping to make friends with her,
such a gentle soul she looked.

We'd become friends, by and by, I had hope,
I saw her smile and loved her sunny side,
but before I could meet and ask her out,
it happened, even without a notice,
I am fired from my job, today.
They said the downturn affected us bad, it showed,
What can you possibly say,
other than, just accepting the pink slip