Just a Lament

Rarely do I find people in company of simple things

With a pencil on a scrap of paper

To sketch a favourite face, a place.

Or

To dive into a piece of poetry

May be to Frost,

To climb on his Birches,

To pick apples,

To mend a wall.

Or may be to Shakespeare

Just to admire

What a piece of work is man!

To ponder upon Ophelia’s goodnight.

Or to hear Fur Elise

To get soaked in a tub of water

Just to close one’s eyes

To retain the splash of colours

A Van Gogh, a Monet or a Vermeer.

Instead…

Fingers just tap tap tap

To fritter words on white screens

Unintelligible though you think legible.  

Clicks fatiguing new clicks

Images gobbling up moments after moments.

Just a lament

By someone who walks a college corridor

Day after day

Hour after hour

In class rooms I feel

A whiff of youth indifferent

A scent of frozen minds

A heady whirl of bewilderment at a small silence

A trail of ennui as they yawn

There crumbles my finger, my white chalk, my blackboard.