Tik-Tik at Twilight :An Ode to the Household Lizard

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Tik-Tik at Twilight

An Ode to the Household Lizard


In twilight hours, so soft and still,

A silent guest with ancient will.

Like spilled ink on the dusky stone,

It creeps where shadows lie alone.

Upon my laterite wall it climbs,

A relic lost between two times.

Its feet like thoughts on silent keys,

Tap tunes no ear can clearly seize.


It flicks its tail, it darts and runs,

A thought unspooling, thread undone.

Like fallen stars that skim the breeze,

Or wind that dances through the trees.

A lizard chasing tiny gnats—

Little ghosts in hunting hats.

A scaled idea with stealthy grace,

A flicker passing time and space.


Its “tik-tik” call, a whispered song,

A ticking clock where shadows throng.

A compass drawn in chirping tongue,

That charts the place where fates are hung.

In Keralite lore, its steps reveal

What priests and stars cannot conceal.

They read its signs, a sacred text, 

From Gowli Sasthram, what comes next.

The ancients read its startled track—

Like runes upon a twilight plaque.

A fall upon your skin or hair,

Foretells of fortunes, dark or fair.


In Thailand’s dusk, its call foretells

A guest approaching, bearing spells.

A knock before the knock is heard,

A prophecy in reptile word.

While Arabs see a jinn in skin,

A whisper coiled in scales so thin.

And in old halls of fading Rome,

It haunts the edges, spirit-chrome—

A breath between the here and gone,

A myth still walking walls at dawn.


It glides like ink in parchment’s fold,

With eyes like beads, unblinking, bold.

Unfazed by time or human scheme,

It lives within a living dream.

A relic with a rubber soul,

A ribbon on a weathered scroll.

Like fleeting guilt or whispered prayer,

It disappears into thin air.


Yet here I stand with broom in hand,

Exorcist of this quiet land.

Though tales and omens haunt the air,

I crave no ghosts upon the stair.

For sacred signs and ancient creep

Cannot compete with needed sleep.


So farewell, lizard, ghost of lore—

Your presence neither less nor more

Than fleeting guest, both wise and small—

I bid you peace beyond these walls.

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