An ethereal corporeal
footstep
Added to the multitude of
thumps
A monumental mechanical
drift
Diffused through a
temperate corporate pump.
Oft in a room full of
caffinated keyboards
Tapped with the same
resonant feel
One of the normalised
overheads
Fails to respond to the
drill.
As the glass lets in the
sunshine
It does well to keep out
the rain
But what would the good
glass keep out
If the room becomes a
marshy terrain?
Yet after a moment of
murky silence
The nervous fingers get
back to tapping again.
Aritra Chakrabarti,
8.45AM, 15th July, 2017.
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