Thursday, August 11, 2011

Some unusual Monday mornings

The bus dropped me near the garage,
The road took a curious little turn,
Few shops stood innocently as we rushed past.
We were late.

The road was muddy,
The sky was brilliant,
I hardly had the time to look at others,
I was late.

The train would come any moment,
The platform was still far off,
The morning was so pure,
I had hardly noticed.

I loved the breeze,
I did not halt to enjoy it all,
Was I really so late?
I had to catch the train.

The stairs were steep,
Legs were young,
Eyes were old,
I simply moved on.

The cycles were parked near the counter,
The morning was getting busy,
Cunning faces were talking,
Smiling faces were lying.

I had a bag on my shoulders,
They carried parts of me,
I was in time to catch the train,
May be the train was late.

There was some rush outside,
There was some inside,
The train made it before eight,
To board it was a fight.

There was a nice smell coming from somewhere,
Or may be it was just me,
It was familiar yet distant,
It was too precious to be savored.

I boarded the train,
Left my bag on the bunk above,
Came back to the doorway,
Lost myself amidst the greenery.

They made such false promises,
Hurts today to feel them again,
Yet, I loved to look,
I know I could not refrain.


  1. WOW.....simply....outstading.....its a reflection of so many ppl's life....i was lost in it....write sumthing more......i wana read it on n on n on n onn....:) mauhhhh