and It is almost

The time to go,
To let go off,
The unfinished chores,
Let them lie there,
The semi peeled onions.

Or the chopped chillies.
The memories
Of distant summer sun.
Of un-kept promises,
And imposed duties.

It is time to fall off
This dream where I run
The Escher stairs.
And empty out the eyes
With heavy tired lids.

It is time to leave everything.
But, the first sigh
The last sin
and ,
A half open door.