Odd Day Account
R N Pokharel / CA, USA
I was to conjure up, not to celebrate in either ways
The 20th anniversary of the start of my odd day;
The day I cried in ample buckets at life’s iffy bay
No matter what, I had to say ‘a compelled yes’.
The scene of the setting was normal
No feast; no gala, nor soiree’s aroma in ether
I was to add a new page to make it twentieth thereafter
The budding spring in the adjacent was the optimal.
Genuine musings of the first day
Brought in my nerve the scene of the last see
Spared to me by my peer fellows and cronies
With words of ominous effects on the way.
I had just turned to the thirteenth page
To read few lines of memorable chapter
I was interrupted by my toddling toddler
She was somewhere within the same page.
She happened to fuel mild stress-unintentionally
‘Why are you brought here-my dad’?
‘Why I am brought here- my dad’?
Her beseeching tone fretted me so amicably.
Her latter query made me wordless-hapless
In truth her ‘here’ meant so much to me
I made pep talk on life is a journey
For she was with the same ‘tail’ as I do-the malaise.
She looked calm-filled with charm- I inane
Of course, with a wish she was brought
And the wish yet not alike lost,
Its just misery that walloped me for the cause genuine.
The thirteenth page had once added little bliss
Within the page had I got my other half
The twentieth began with questions perhaps
As was true to my life forested with knotty trees.
The running page alarmed me; gathered mosses anon,
I felt a little like walking out from a long coma.
Toddler’s presence exercised my, otherwise, mind in trauma
I realized. I remained always before loaded cannon.
Evidently, the toddler shall grow-grow with the tail
Unseen tomorrow, for sure, add or make amiss my wish
She equally shall seek freedom from tail and relish,
Before being termed a bête noire, I must lose my tail.