Poem: The Wee Hour Poem

This poem is dedicated to Priya Patel and her deep love for her father. Just a passing mention, but a touch of reality from my perspective.

Poem: The Wee Hour Poem

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Silence still eludes
The air conditioners hum
In angry double-speak
Spewing chill on the humans
Smiling at their cozy lives
Spitting hot and fury
Into the cool monsoon night

The growing white moon
Smiles from a distance
Leaving cold semen
Of white-washed love
The sleepy trees sway
In the cool, nocturnal breeze
Somewhere, a nestling wakes
Hungry and angry

A few windows lit
The insomniacs rule
Fatter midriffs consume
Empty shelves of the fridge
Insatiable indulgence
Satisfied by midnight deliveries
Mindless scrolling
Of short-form videos
Or some serious flicks
The loud disagreement
Of a sleepless couple

I stare into the night
Thinking about her
Tending to her papa
She must know that I am awake
Waiting for some inspiration
To write that one poem
To wrap up my waking hours
And bring a quick end
To my otherwise sordid day.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2024