If All Objects Could Talk

 If All Objects Could Talk

 

The morning coffee mug shouts, “Hot… Hot,”

The breakfast plater squabble to come out, “Me first, me first,”

The dishes in the sink make a face to one another and say, “You stink “,

The books on the study table cry, “Please do sort me,” as they balance on the brink,

The running shoes sigh, “Rest time… home at last,”

The computer and the phone chat about, “In sync,” in binary blink,

 

In the scorching afternoon laze,

The house wished it had more surrounding trees and shades,

The wet clothes jostle on the cloth-line, “You’re in my place,”

While the dry clothes going into the cupboard shout,” Hurry, it’s a sudden death race”,

The lunch plate falls flat on its face, “What! same dal, roti and sabji, all over again,”

The plants in the portico shut their eyes, “Where is the rain?”

The magazine greets the daily paper, ‘Good Day,’ morning, night and noon,

Between the daily and the weekly, they check the for updates with,” So what’s happening new,”

 

 

Slowly the evening comes into the house and stares,

In the far corner the thermometer snores,

The medicines have a nearly evening disco on the medic chest floor,

Shoes kick each other to scream, “where is my other leg” and “get off me,”

TV and remote cry and hiss, “Oh no! they are breaking us into three,”

Biscuit boxes clamouring for attention, call out, “pick me... pick me,”

Insulted fruit bowls hide, wishing they would remain unseen.

 

At night the kitchen vessels clang out loud,

“Move over, I am right size for tonight’s curry,”

But the pan shouts, “Out of my way, I am in a hurry,’

Some clothes in the laundry basket wonder aloud,

“Hopefully we’ll get extra comfort this time,”

While others say, “Just a wee bit more bleach and blue would be prime.”

Towels sing each other lullaby in the fan’s gentle breeze,

While the thin cottons complain to the bath towel, “Sir, I am all wet, help please,”

The earrings boasting to the watch on the cabinet,

“There she starts again,” says the dresses in the closet,

Earring continues, “I had to sway back and forth all day, to look at ease,”

Ignoring the din, the sane old watch sits quietly enjoying the peace.

 

Late into the night the weary objects decide to be nice,

Call for a meeting and plan for the next day’s surprise,

All inanimate object of the world would matter,

If only humans could understand their chatter.