Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
They live quietly in the closet.”
The closet waits. Silent, judging, full of secrets.
Socks lost in mysterious disappearances, shoes plotting rebellions,
T-shirts from “a newer me” whispering, remember me?
I open the door with courage…
And immediately regret it.
Inside, my eyes fall on bundles of sarees.
Colors stacked like temptation, prints too beautiful to ignore.
For a brief, dangerous moment, I’m convinced
I’ll wear a saree every day.
Suits stand ready, dupattas look agreeable,
as if routine can suddenly learn grace.
Because cleaning isn’t moving clothes it’s time traveling.
This scarf reminds me of laughter I forgot.
These heels? Of dreams I abandoned politely.
And that pile of “I’ll wear it someday”?
Older than my resolutions, wiser than me.
I sort, fold, procrastinate, reminisce…
Three hours later: nothing done.
The closet stands undefeated.
I close the door. It sighs. I sigh.
Tomorrow, we’ll dance this dance again
Me, the guilty human.
The closet, eternal.
—Rajeshwari 💕
Rajeshwari ji, this is delightful and deeply relatable 🤍✨ I agree completely—your words cross humor with quiet philosophy so beautifully. The imagery is vivid, affectionate, and respectful, turning an ordinary closet into a mirror of life itself 👗🌸. I admire the grace, wit, and warmth in your voice. Please keep writing—your encouragement hides inside laughter, and it truly shines 🙏💫
Thank you so much Krishna ji🤍✨
Your words mean more to me than I can express.
If my writing could bring a smile, a moment of reflection, or a sense of quiet connection, then it has done what it was meant to do.🤍✨ Readers like you make the act of writing feel truly worthwhile 🙏✨
Rajeshwari ji,
This piece turns an ordinary, unfinished chore into a tender meditation on memory, identity, and time. The closet is no longer just a mess it becomes a quiet witness to who we were, who we hoped to be, and who we are still becoming.
Your line “Because cleaning isn’t moving clothes, it’s time traveling” captures the heart of the poem beautifully. Every garment holds a story, and the humor is gentle, self-aware, and deeply human. We laugh, but we also recognize ourselves.
There’s something very honest about the ending no grand resolution, no forced productivity just acceptance. Some to-do list items remain undone not because of laziness, but because they are layered with emotion.
This is witty, reflective, and quietly profound. A lovely reminder that even procrastination can be a form of remembering.
-vijay