Standing at the door of a coach
The train cuts through plains and valleys
Like a raft with wide oars albeit
Expressed in heaving breathes it soars.
It would take a season each to belong
He knew and blew his horn along, for he;
Who runs between rails and moves from-
Where we are to where we want to be.
"Haathi jaaye bazaar kutte bhawkein hazaar",
Not far fetched enough not to relate
A thousand remedies come and go
But the brute force of it remains.
Here is an elephant
We knew; we always did-
It knows as well; it always did;
No love lost was the truth indeed.
What are we to make of the day-
When murky do nights' end lay;
The loud rumble of the engine drown-
All doubts to vitality wipe all frown.
Life itself ran between the rails
Aboard the train, by the door, I stand,
Looking at age as it passes me by;
With stories which cradle and soothe me by.
An alliteration of thoughts to trains.
