Ink in the thank-tank: A poem 

I live in a rented apartment; it is my castle 

A bookcase and a laptop, space is a tussle 

In the little kitchen, the pressure cooker’s whistle 

There’s not much in the wallet for my daily hustle 

I have a creaky couch and a television in the lounge 

Even if my means are low, I do not ever scrounge 

With few aspirations, I have no mountains to climb 

I have release in humility, and my ego is sublime 

My wisdom is simple and undemanding: one day at a time 

My wardrobe is not fancy, not much on the clothesline 

Though I’d prefer company, solitude is my mainstay 

I accept the little trinkets, see the booty in the inlay  

For rainbows are in the vision, the lesson I have learnt 

Gratitude for the upbringing, I let no bridges be burnt 

Perchance, I regret the season and even rue the sun 

I still have ink in my thank-tank, when the day is done