I looked out of the window.
Thrice.
Maybe was looking for something brighter.
Then I woke you up.
That side of your face,bristly,brushed against mine,
you smiled.
Asked you if you would like some coffee.
I was glad to be on a train,rocking us to sleep.
I was glad to be on the move.
I know you loved the frayed,yellowed interiors.
I know you loved the music.
And that stolen cigarette by the window,the night air cool against our faces.
Your mouth warm against mine.
When there was a knock at the door.
......................
2 comments:
You know something? I don't intend to flatter you, but in some way this poem reminds me of a random Robindroshongeet. Esp. the way it ends- "...When there was a knock on the door."
Gaan-ta mone porchhey na ekhon. Ahh ki complement! :P
"I was glad to be on a train,rocking us to sleep.
I was glad to be on the move.
I looked out of the window.
Thrice.
Maybe was looking for something brighter.
Then I woke you up."
BEAUTIFUL!thoughts and et all!
am adding you to my W.M.T list!
keep writing will you!
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