Treasure Island

Pradip Chattopadhyay

(28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

The Dancing Peacock


In the crowded platform
he sure was the dancing peacock
in his heart was blowing a storm
he feigned though looking at the station clock.

Not the clock he was eying that one lovely girl
her face storm gatherer like her hair's black curl
he blushed every time she would catch his eyes
stealing her a look in indifference's disguise.

He was within enjoying this farcical foreplay
didn't know her train his was an hour away
imagined she too was singling him out
from the flock of men his contenders no doubt.

Did a wispy smile float on her cherry lip
few moments' encounter could it be that deep
still in his wondrous thought the girl he did own
on that absurd stage for her his love was grown.

One could not tell what was going within her
her eyes were they touched shone there a star
was she too mindful of him held him once in gaze
or her mind was too far away on a different page.

The hour passed quick in the young man's trance
between changing trains with the peacock's dance
when chugged in her train flew away the butterfly
the whistles of his train drowned his rending sigh.

Submitted: Sunday, May 18, 2014

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Topic(s): love

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  • Valsa George (5/20/2014 4:05:00 AM)

    A shipboard romance is beautifully narrated.... To escape the monotony of dull wait at the railway station, such harmless escapades are OK. After strutting his feathers and dancing for sometime, both the peacock and the butterfly went their way... Enjoyed! (Report) Reply

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