or is it the air changing?
mood settles, or is it the
time of year?

Almost tattered with oil spots and all
when it was gifted I really can't recall
the colors are faded the surface rough
but in my possession is no better stuff.

The smell is old with layers of years
wiped bath water, sweat and tears
rubs me tender whispers sweetly
in love with you please don't leave me.

My old buddy without a name
hugs my skin covers my shame
post the showers it's been my muse
still not useless from years of use.

Why it's so special why can't I leave
the torn old thing holds love I believe
the touch of love that's never really gone
in a parting gift from the father to the son.

I'm desperately searching
For an ounce of permanence
In a world in which
Everything fades to nothingness

Sun dips, paints the sky ablaze,
with monsoon on the rise, the gloom yellow daze.
Folds of the bed, a sunken cove,
Hours swallowed whole, oblivious of.

Confined to the bed, my hold constricted,
Out there so much, vibrant, unrestricted.
I look to the lime yellow wall space,
more than a year, a neglected chase.

The vast unknown, I look from the window,
look at the people, come and go,
while I see them afar, are they happier than me
Do they feel as imprisoned as I be?