Habit Is...

Habit is..

I miss my bus,
Am late for work,
The boss is all curse
A sleepy meeting,
A delicious tea,
A beautiful downpour,
Wow, I got home drenched!
I call you up,
Sum up all these,
The day is complete..

Habit is..

Your morning messages,
Lunch time enquiries,
Evening calls,
Good night poems..
Week end outings..
Your summaries..
Your sharing..

Habit is..

When a morning message is skipped,
Heart beat does too..
And then sometimes none at all till evening..
I call and thrash and complain,
Cos not a single time of day could pass,
With you not being a part of..

Habit is..

The skips become more frequent..
The complaints less..
I can manage a part of the day single..
After all you’re busy
I convince myself

Habit is..

A day now is skipped..
And no summaries..
No enquires a full day!
I wait some days till you call,
I call to thrash some days..
Yet some days I carry on just fine..

Habit is..

A few days together it is now..
And I manage them fine, with out you..

Habit is..

Weeks of course..
Fuming, cribbing, complaining, waiting,
I go through it.
I can sense the lack o something in you,
Interest? Love? Commitment?

Habit is..

And today I tackle months..
What seemed impossible for a few hours,
Now has extended itself..
Not with ease, Not without aches,
But with much less intensity..
I know years ought to pass too..
N I know I’ll make it fine..

A time will come when you are not part of life..
And I know I can take that too..

So habit is
This..

But..

Love is?