My Muse eloped with passing Time

“I’ll come to you in half an hour”,
Was what she told me every hour.
She asked me why I did not help
My mother clean the dusty shelves
And pick the fallen shiuli pods
And stitch the garlands for our gods
And check finances yet again
And clean the clogging washroom drain
And boil the cups of lemon tea
And buy some better fitting tees
And entertain that sudden guest
And join him on his scheming quest
And listen to complaints all day
And nod my head this way that way
And work and talk and eat and rest
Before arriving at my desk.
But even at this midnight hour
She tells me, “Yes, yes. Half an hour.”

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