Watchman

Its 4 am...
and i'm still sitting in my balcony..
seeing the park in hazy light....
Few coconut trees stand guarding the watchman...
OH!! may be the bottle of local wine possessed his senses...
Or the uncontrolled lousy slumber broke his old fences...
But after all he still is human and old....
His age retiring gesture compelled to work....
I often wonder if its Money he's lurking....
If i could see his eyes, I would tell....
He coughs sometimes, seems ill...
for all the labour and sweat in the hot summer afternoon...
he works at building sight in daylight.....
and guards night with age to fight...
between work he takes his nap...
Oh dear God, how strong is his heart...
en rooted self dependency in the age of crisis...
I can see he's awake and moving...
at this time when mortals are sleeping...