“There is never an end to thoughts,

be it good or bad," my aunt would say
as her mind, like wild monkeys, would
swing across the mango trees,
on top of a small hill.

There she lived
eighty-two years of her life,

Her mind troubled her daily that,

drifted like a rudderless ship.

Now that she is gone,

How can I forget what she had said then.

“Don’t forget to put a bridle on,

or else your mind is going to put a bridle on you.”

Trouble, there's never an end to it.