The lone bench in my backyard,

Painted green and white,

I had purchased in a sale long ago,

It has served me well.

When it does not rain in the evening

I sit there inspired, sipping tea undisturbed,

And write poems.

So it is even now but today,

There is a group of indecisive parakeet,

Conversing.

I do not know what they are talking about

And I am unable to think and write.

Let me ask these birds to imagine on my behalf,

Situations only they know about

Their love and hate,

Acceptance and rejection,

Success and despair.

Thinking thus I came awake and approached,

The birds took to flight out of fear of me.

Deeply disappointed I retraced my steps,

Sat on the bench with my notebook in hand

And nothing else to write home about.