Vehicles on the road; speeding and rushing,
Meanwhile the people; shouting and running.

Striking my face,
The cold December blaze.
As from the window,
The city is an obvious gaze.

One after another, one stranger to the other,
The bus filled with people, one different from the other.

For everyday I used to run late,
But today I sit idle, writing a poem;
As the only thing I'm left
Is with the plentiness of time.

Random are the words,
And so is my poem.

27th December, 2021

***

I found this peom at the end my notes. It's surprising how I still vividly remember the day lol.