Digging up old treasures is a certain high. Another dive and I come up with a half crumpled note dated 2007. I clearly remember the crazy day at work when I wrote this, exasperated. You'll know why I celebrate the thrill of of my own randomness today. I'm tempted to add more to it each time I read it. This one surely is a poem in progress!
I got thorns in my throat.
Nomad syrup? I spot promote. Try to exercise but my mind.
It's working on its own design.
Someday this drum will stop to roll.
Pick me up- like ramen from a bowl.
I can fix this. There's no doubt.
A teapot with a broken spout.
Swim through this day in misery.
With a blue jar of green tea.
I want it to rain. Clear all, lest my panes re-frame.
Drizzle now now. Soothe my thorny throat again.
© Snigdha Manchanda Binjola
