Parking Lot Poem by Vera Sidhwa

Parking Lot



Meandering through a parking lot,
I wove through it's cars a lot.
The spaces in between seemed full,
With doors swinging open.

There were no nuances here,
There were cars in motion,
There were cars sitting there.
I thought they resembled,
Our life by sight.

My life was spent,
In a gigantic flow,
Of cars,
Where I could come and go.

I spent a moment,
Just sitting in my torment,
Of cars not moving,
The meters paying.

My life was spent,
Mostly meandering,
Driving through my day,
Mostly reaching,


Here and there.
And even nowhere.
Then also going somewhere,
And coming back,
Into this parking lot of my life,
That was jammed packed today.

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