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Waking up to sad news 

Every morning is turning into a ritual . 

It shooks me the moment 

I try to engulf the bad news . 

Newspapers have moreover 

Turned into funeral notes , 

The doorbells now rings 

More for the emergency calls 

From the neighbors with whom 

I had talked months back , 

The radios no more play melodies 

But the mourns and stories 

Of all the sufferers who couldn’t speak ,

The social media and groups 

Are turning into sentimental stories 

They have shared with the one 

They lost last night . 

The clock still doesn’t pauses 

But reminds us about the good old times

we had spent 

In the same  quarter of the day .


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