The wheels draw to a halt with an ominous screech,
Dazed, I look up from my broken revery;
Murmuring voices, shuffling footsteps alight,
A diffracted spectra, some dark, some bright.

To the windows shift my moony eyes,
As the engine spurts with a burst of life.
Through a tunneling limbo of seamless dark,
Slash ribbons of rail in swirls and arcs.

In this labyrinth, this state of oblivion,
Memories trickle, in ounces, in millions.
Lights of saffron on the arches bloom,
Will-o'-the-wisps, my conscience assumes.

Emerge awed, under a canopy of stars,
An infinity of dreams one could wish upon.
The country bathes in the moonlight deluge.
Utopia, I muse, for my poetic refuge.

The cosmos smiles, enchanting yet so strange.
Would we ever know why, if we weren't so vain?
Gold, moltened crimson, at the horizon streaks,
Warm like the dribble, of tears on one's cheeks.

The last station nears, the wheel rhythm slows.
I get up, wishing the end weren't so close.
The final chapter. Is there ever a further plot?
Perhaps, I decide, on another train of thought.

perhaps,
I’d be gazing the horizon
perhaps,
You’d walk towards me
perhaps,
I’d miss a few heartbeats
perhaps,
I’d avert my eyes to catch a li’l breath
perhaps,
We’d hold hands for the first time..
perhaps,
the waves would slowly touch our feet
perhaps,
wind’d be messing up our hair
perhaps,
we’d try to take it all in
perhaps,
You’d say you went to come back
perhaps,
You’d have come back,
forever….
perhaps,
it’d seem like a happily ever-after
perhaps,
I’d be writing a poem for you
perhaps,*
after yet another pang of longing!