This morning, I took out the wrong cake
Pandan was meant for my father’s nursing home,
but I mistook it for the one meant for us.
I ate the leftover banana slice for breakfast
and took my medicine with a quiet breath.
There were murmurs about neighbours—
how they pass by without a greeting.
I helped bring the recycling down,
leaving it by the lift downstairs.
An insect found its way to my back—
I brushed it off gently.
A boy offered his seat, and another pointed
to the bench beside me.
I reminded myself to be surrounded
by thoughts that bloom and feelings that lift.
The message from the unseen:
nurture the passions within,
think freely,
and turn inward now and then
to find the spark.
On the shuttle, I greeted softly,
but my voice met silence.
A request for a drink was heard,
but my presence,
just a nod.
Later, a hush
fell upon my morning words
as I said "good morning" to another.
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