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Every morning of the weekday
I get a moment to walk an aimless walk.
Not both ways, but half of the way;
walking my son to the school block
just three blocks away.
Six fifty in the morning, says the clock;
comfortable coolness outside, with early sun’s ray;
less traffic, fewer bodies to create havoc.
Other parents like me, I meet and see.

The mind is free, the grind has not started for the day.
The fresh, stress-free mind admires all;
admires every little thing on the way.
The minaret of the mosque and its aesthetic globe,
glinting in the rising sun’s rays;
the early morning leaves and flowers on the road,
having bade farewell to their parent plant,
waiting to be swept off
by the foreign helping hands.

The parents and the child combo I see,
the kid a reflection of the elder walking alongside him or her
the resemblance so evident that I wonder
does my kid look like me to that extent?!
I do not know, but I don’t see too much of me in him
but others say he looks like me
Guess only others can see the looks.

One parent I see
a model she used to be
beauty, height, shape, and looks she has that I envy;
But I feel sad for her all the same.
her eyes looks so sad, her cheekbones does not smile
her forehead carries creases that screams.
Somehow I sense in her, a battered and abused wife.

One parent I see,
a housewife I am pretty sure.
Yet, the glamour of her dress that early in the morning
fit for a queen, nothing less.
not overly dressed! Yet elegant, neat, and posh.
A smile on her lips, a radiance on her face
mischief in her eyes, a confidence in her walk.

One parent I see,
a ‘druggie’ he looks to me
No basis, I have for my prejudice.
Nothing other than his looks, a bit untidy;
long untidy hair, a cigarette between his fingers.
Physical features not too attractive,
a pot belly, relatively short, a roughness on his face.
Yet! Yet, the kid that walks by him, he adores I can see;
lovingly he walks her to the class.
Small talk he makes all the way. The look of adoration for her
in his eyes blows my other perception haywire.
I can’t help wonder what his story is.

One parent I see,
the centre of attention she seems to seek.
Dressed, not elegant, yet made up.
Walks with a sprint and gait
all the way walking back home,
a hoard of other parents joining her,
creating a buzz in the air.

One parent I see,
a university student he is, I know.
nice chiseled look, kind eyes, smiling eyes.
a short beard, not glamorous but neatly dressed
always in a shirt and pants, not tucked in.
his kids (two wee ones) walks hand-in-hand
obediently with a mirroring smile just like his.
Such a beautiful image they make.

One parent I am, :)
dressed way too casually compared to the rest,
jeans and a top, not at all made up!

A loner i am, I know!
one who enjoys the surrounding without chit chatter,
it’s THE moment with myself.
For, the rest of the day I grind myself at work.
Barking orders, asking questions, seeking answers,
solving problems, making plans, following up on tasks,
in meetings, working tiresomely on paperwork;
no rest to the mind until the end of the day
closing it all and hitting my punching bag :) this space.

Punch it as much as my fingers and eyes could stand.
I fall in my sack for a short rest for my stiff self.
And this morning walk does wonders
replenishing the mind with energy all around me.

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P.S. The photo above is from an evening ride in Thinadhoo Island,
from a work vacation sometime back.

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