(1)
Our balcony was a rectangular one –
squared-oval shape,
There were no chairs,
and we had to do with borrowed ones from inside,
from here and there,
The somewhat narrow lane
below our first-floor balcony
had once upon a time
familiar people treading on it,
Now strangers pass by
smiling and spitting on it;
(2)
Over the years – as a child –
How can I forget our lanky next-door uncle
returning from office in the afternoon
with a Shaikh Brothers loaf,
Aunty returning back from office
with bundles of spinach,
Toddlers on a joy ride in their miniature engines
under the watchful eyes of an elderly,
often screaming out a warning of an approaching vehicle,
Our veteran Khura
out with his Labrador and a stick in hand;
(3)
Recent years –
I had almost forgotten our balcony,
and the only time I stepped on it
was when I waited after pressing our calling bell,
It’s only now that I am spending more time on it – from it,
It’s as if our balcony beckons me
to spend time on it – from it,
and make up for those lost years;
(4)
These days –
I no longer press our calling bell,
I don’t go anywhere outside,
I sit in our balcony on a borrowed chair,
I sip my morning cup of tea,
I then get lost in plots and pages of a fiction,
It’s almost noon now,
Humanity, strangely hasn’t woken up as yet;
© Sabah
