Sitting in front of the comp,
Yawns coming on with utmost show and pomp.
Struggling to think of writing good,
Feel Inspirational, wish I could.
Switch on TV, a Kannada movie pours light into the hall,
I am told the hero is my favourite but I have no recall.
Look at T "give me a topic " pleading in eyes,
But he is busy chatting with the Watch India IPTV guys.
The little one lying beside me with legs strewn around,
Tightly closed eyes but not a wink of sleep bound.
Words not pouring but running out of time,
Why does my poetry end up with a rhyme?

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