Meals and I,
Eating alone is
Grace.
It allows your mind to wander to places,
Allows your palate to really taste,
Avoid uncomfortable gazes.
Enables you to expand your horizons,
No one at your table,
Just your food and you,
A couple from a fable.
A habit, off-late,
One I wasn’t accustomed to,
But sometimes,
I wonder if conversation,
Goes better with dosa than a cup of filter coffee.
Or if,
Jokes and laughter are companions,
To my eggs and oats,
Rather than the earplugs with silence in my ears.
Then I realize all thoughts are futile,
And I’m not making much sense,
This poem doesn’t even have a consistent rhyme scheme,
Tomorrow I shall wander again to the mess,
Report my findings; but for now,
Suspense.
Tejas Rao 