in an era of Postmen,
at the time of drizzling dawn,
a mad mrs. harper,
who was neither lying in bed,
nor preparing the morning breakfast spread.
mad because of her own bizarre approach to life,
with multiple partners, rescued as dogs and cats and birds and chameleons.

a stranger in an alien country.
she stared out the window,
of the kitchen,
looking at the vast translucent sky.
the bluish black cloudy cotton making patterns,
and abstract art in the head.
the darkness being swallowed by white light,
white light being swallowed by mellow yellow fire,
the cool moon going to sleep, the fiery sun rising in flames,
the empty lifeless pathway, breathing coal again.
the aroma of boiling tea and the sounds of pressure cookers and crying kids.
newspapers and letters on the way.
blowing horns and ringing cycle bells.
slowly making way.
alarms chiming in neighbouring houses.

mrs. harper is seen observing a fly.
fly, who has gone mad.
bumping into the window on loop.
trying to enter through the glass.
failed attempts to fit in,
even to stay out.
lost in fly’s survival, mrs. harper laughs.
a laugh after all poignant days.
a laugh after all melancholic daze.

mrs. harper also observes the dog,
asking for her attention.
observes the cat,
sleeping in the sun’s glory, staring at nothing.
observes the parrot,
the texture of skin, the sound of its chirp.
observes the chameleon,
adapting each second to anything and everything.
observes the postman,
being the harbinger of news for people, good or bad.

such silly moments of observations,
made her laugh.
made her realise the worth of a laugh.
made her realise the ebbs and flows of life.
made her realise the worthlessness of worries.
made her realise the dullness of existence.
made her realise the fun in little things.
is what life should be.
mrs. harper finally realized.
the worth of a laugh,
a laugh after all poignant days.
a laugh after all melancholic daze.

-uk