MIMOSA DAY

I write but my mojo abandoned me.

Often do I write & I observe,

Then I observe & I write.

But not today, nor yesterday alas.

I watched, I read, I gulped

my tea, I thought then,

why not a Mimosa!

The corridors of my mind’s stretched,

stretched elastic were my cab’s windows

into the beyond.

Mimosa sang along, with me,

one Bollywood song after another.

conjuring up my temporary home,

Gateman stopped and peered 

at Harish’s bemused face, my cabbie!

Who had been listening to my 

mimosa-fuelled musicality and 

hummed bits he could follow.

“I live here now”, I yelled, rolling down the glass pane, 

then furiously hollered:

“You can’t stop me anymore!”

I then grinned as our eyes met,

he smartly saluted the Mimosa lady,

“Of course you do ma’am!” 

Grinning right back, the naughty man!

I write now as I hum.

It’s coffee-time melody,

my mojo pushing the contours of

over-stretched mental corridors, 

misshapen ideas now begin

to form.

I now write as I observe

I observe and I write. 

A Wednesday anthem on the go

KN 24thFeb2021