it is time to leave. i had thought of writing a poem this day a week back. but i have nothing to say now. its time to leave. feels like im leaving a piece of me behind. things need to be done still. before its time to leave.

Ouch

Washed with care. Thought out for the next three days mostly. The mirror never lied. Oh so beautiful. Heart beating walk to the mess for breakfast. Sometimes hurried sometimes cool. How do I believe it will end tomorrow. How do I believe it's the last time tomorrow. How do I believe it's the last day of class tomorrow.

Gratitude

I cleaned the window, cleaned the lamp, dusted the speakers, moped the floor. I emptied the plastic rack and washed it under the tap. I took care of the spider webs and dusted the fan. I put away old newspapers and put important papers in place, important being randoms words scribbled here and there. I smiled with regret as I found stuff that I was supposed to put up on my wall. I bundled up clothes fifty pieces to give to the dhobi. I did it all with so much care. I was doing it all for the last time. It was time to leave. Leave home.