forgotten morning

the morning was silent, cold and forgotten
my room was filled with my thoughts
the tea got spilled over my favourite shirt
the huge sum of phone bills upon my wallet
the curtains splitting wide like a virgin
my window like a black n white television
i could see the sweeper emptying the dust bin

with one hand holding a bidi,
endless smoke from his stinking mouth
perhaps it's the sweetest mouth to his old wife.
the clouds chasing the lazy sun
like in south people chasing northern sons.
the school kids have been dressed up forcibly
some are smiling, some are crying,

some are sleeping and walking
like a flock of frogs looking for rain
they've been woken up from their wonderland.
the newspaper boy cycling so fast
as if he was going to miss the news
of the death of the lady
who has been raped, murdered and shot

the forgotten morning had lots to watch
the remembered evening had nothing except to forget