A little piece of Flotsam,
floated slowly past by
on a river with all of them
all slowly passing by.
As it drifted slowly aloong,
some disquiet in it crept
real came straight, imagination oblong
“how long had i slept?”
“Hey! hold on! what’s all this going on?”
how come I am drifting away?
Is it noon, is it night, is it dust, is it dawn
stop all this stuff I say!
I was a beautiful piece of puzzle
fitting perfectly in a beautiful jigsaw
everything was right, so snug
then why now everything raw?
And now, where am i
among all these flotsams
why am I slowly drifting by
pass these, pass those, past them.
Well, i guess, i’ll find a new puzzle
and fit cozily right in
that’s all required, so simple
now the world can continue its spin.
But to the little flotsam, no one told
that a piece from a puzzle fit no other
that it wasn’t a piece of sparkling gold
or a song so sweet, a fair so feather.
And it did, this unpolished gem
try settle in, to atleast try
a little piece of flotsam
floating slowly past by.
– Written a long time ago, when school had ended and college had begun, and everything felt unfamiliar.