The Tepid Days

There are days that begin and end on the same note,
The mornings are tepid and so are the nights.
What should I say to my heart,
It already whispers in my mind,
That is life.
Sunny thoughts I produce in mind,
The mind is leaking these days.
Preserving the thoughts has been an art I always aced,
To sew the leakages demand attention too.
Where do I invest my mind,
Work, daily affairs or the dreams;
The world is moving on a pace,
A pace that weighs nothing these days.
Writing these lines,
My fingers are going on,
But the mind,
It is still numb and whine.
No complains I have with Lord,
Because He is the maker,
But still the hope is scratching the surface of heart,
All day long and it prolongs and prolongs.

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