6.30 p.m.

At 6.30 p.m.
Night begins to dress up
as part of its daily regimen.
It wears tinges of orange.


Uninspired employees click on Start
and then Shut Down.
6.30 p.m. when mothers congregate in
oligopolistic vegetable markets.

Also, young loves miss
gorgeous sunsets as
hormones run astray in 
public places. 

6.30 p.m. as I walk out into sinking light.
Alone. And when friends assemble
over maggi and chai.
You walk by. 

6.30 p.m. when I catch a glimpse.
Of you in moments of good cheer
and joy. For darkness lurks
as we bid adieu to the distant sun.

As we bid adieu to the distant sun.
I welcome your light.