Don’t get me wrong,
Not losing touch with what’s going on

With today’s stock prices, startups and Twitter-verified celebrities
With status updates on LinkedIn and random Instagram feeds.
But,
I don’t know who my neighbors are or the name of our watch guard;
the last time I spoke to them was when I moved in here.
I lost touch with my best friend ’cause she is not on Instagram,
but I do know where her ex-boyfriend went, and where he stayed in France.
Phone conversations seem onerous. WhatsApp groups suffice.
‘Can’t talk now’ — I send that a lot- just a click on a device.
There was a time when I spoke for hours with friends I met all day
about love, and life and thoughtful things and music, books and plays

With the talk track on my deck, with the decimals on our conversion;
With our competitors’ every move and my stock options’ valuation.
But,
I don’t remember the last time that I felt the joy of victory
like getting A on a tough course or our school winning a trophy.
I don’t think I know anymore what I really want to be
like a dancer, artist, astronaut and all things I would dream.
I am losing touch with my creative mind, the one that nurtured me,
the one that ebbs with ideas and sparks insanity.

With timings of my gym class and the Instacart delivery,
the next subscription box and the ClassPass expiry.
My milkman is an app, so is the newspaper man;
the grocer , plumber, stylist virtually taking care.
Things are always on time; I don’t need to call and check,
Don’t happen to know their struggles or how their ends are met.

With my spouse’s calendar, with our bank accounts and bills,
With our alternate business trips and Blue Apron meals.
But ,
I don’t remember the last time I looked into his eyes.
When he stared me down in my black long dress and brushed my hair aside.
I am losing touch with what defines us — the crazy , silly side,
the one that never wrote the bills , that love with no disguise.

With our weekend commitments, with the next series on Netflix;
With my toddlers’ activities at school where he spends eight to six.
But,
Where is the spontaneity? The road trips on a whim?
The long drives with some music on and the after-work drink ?
Those rainy days we spent at home when the future was unknown;
the cup of tea, the conversations, the connection at the soul?
The future we dreamt of is right here now — the career, the home, the child.
The travel , the photos and memories we build — to enrich our profiles.

But I am losing touch with the soul I had,
the carefree, wild and bold.
The one who did not follow paths and let it all unfold.

Decluttering my mind, scooping out deep-seated thoughts, stirring my soul and expressing them for you to enjoy some fresh, awakening perspectives

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