PURPOSE

Aims, goals, plans, timetables
every word of purpose rooted
in every nook of my maternal house.

Childhood broom sweeps
but they come crawling back
to my beaming parents who
navigate them to me and my sibling.

Teen years slammed many a door
at those disgusting words then
yet they found their resting cot.

Youth conquered me
and slid them farther away
Every tiny achievement then
was a new wrapper for my ego.

Evading immigrations
my goals sneaked into
my dwelling in this country.

My occasional grey sprouting
hair do not miss
their conscious stare.

On days when my moods swing me
a friendly tug of goals whispers
"It's all right, you can do it again."

My present goals are only for my eyes
Tiny pleasures, whenever achieved
A treat, I strive to earn each day.