8 O'clock Poem by arvind shah

8 o'clock 
(An Elegy to  the Mother)

The Sun in routine
up in the sky -
air warms
Earth goes eager
birds draw lines
on the blue canvas 
grasses move -
soil, to show alive.

The clock strikes 8 o'clock
but I am still, ' Vacuum'
eyes fixed on
big black telephone
on the table and
ears keen to Get
The apparatus Ring.

The solemn Uninterrupted Gaze
goes Blank
I stretch sagging arm
to reach the instrument -
But stop.

She did not make 
the morning call
now, She will never ever
make the Call -
I can't  call
I will never ever be able
to call.

Seeing her, since -
wake me up to universe
Alas! She has gone into Ether -
the Sun has set
for all the times to come.
I will have to live
without the 8 o'clock Energy call.
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©Arvind Shah  June 2019