On the eve of my birthday
Well past the halfway mark
Of my life
I lie awake
And think of things undone
Promises unkept
Isn’t it true that
“Suddenly
Heaven can steal from you
The moment you need
To moisten your lips”?
But then there are other thoughts too
(Soporific sheep)
Things half-done
(Well begun?)
Promises kept
And the thought that
If Heaven can indeed
Steal from me
That moment
In a moment
Then there is no hurry at all
I have all the time in the world
To do
What I must
And I doze off
Thinking of
The Masala Dosa morrow