Found another hidden poem by myself 😅 ⏰

This old poem of mine was written way back in 2020, when the world had come to a screeching halt.

Now, reading it almost three years later, I'm surprised by my former self's insight into how mundane life can be, and how procrastination can make it even drearier.

Anyway, enough rambling, here you go 😊:

I watch the arms of the

Little contraption by my bed

Turn round and round

On the dial like a pirouette.

The chilly dawn changes to a

Bright watery morning

Within thin rays of light

From the cosmos.

The sun gets more and more

Powerful as time flies

And its warmth reaches to

Me through the windows.

I lay on my bed watching

The arms of the little contraption

Turn round and round

On the dial like a pirouette.

The sunlight slowly fades away

Into the dusk but the city

Does not come to life at night

As in past happy times.

I do not hear the screeching

Of the passing traffic nor

The echoes of countless

Footfalls on the streets.

I restlessly turn in my bed

As the arms of the little contraption

Turn round and round

On the dial like a pirouette.

Slowly the square lights in

The concrete flicker out

And mine is the only one

Remaining lit throughout the night.

Why am I still procrastinating within

The four walls of my life

While the world moves on

As if nothing was in its way.

It's time for me to get up

And make my life more meaningful and useful

Amid the ravages of the cursed contagion

As those arms turn round and round

On the dial like a pirouette.