It's been a while. I wrote a poem Routine
I have gotten used to its taste
A liking to the feeling,
I spread it on my bread like paste
And selfishly, I scarf it down.
Every morning, I pour it in a mug
I do the same procedure -
I drink it in the morning
And by the night, will have spilled it on our clothes.
The bulb has changed its shade,
Still the color of the light, I keep close.












