I wake up everyday, after the third alarm,
Totter my way to the bathroom, and hold the toothbrush unsteady.
There is music playing while I get ready for work,
And then there is an urgent flourish with
How bags are packed and things are kept in place.
So I board the usual train and
Set my sights on my favourite seat by the window,
Plug my earphones on, imagining that,
There is indeed a soundtrack to my life-
Mellow sounds, dominated by piano, guitars and the cello intermingled
With the cacophony of the daily city rumbles and tumbles.
Somewhere in between the city and suburbs, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
I wake up with a jolt to announcements in the train and to the hustle of the co-passengers.
I wake up to the reality of punching in time and sending pleasantries over typed words by force of habit.
I wake up to the reality that we spent too much time not typing the words that needed to be said out loud.
[The title of the poem is taken from the song ‘Never Want To Say It’s Love’ by Dido.]