Waiting For Love
I always wait echoes of the bell of the last train,
On an old bench, with love, my ancient friend,
Patiently, I often read 'Gone With The Wind',
Though, I keep forgetting the deceptive end.
The sun leaves a yellow smile on the platform,
Light precedes the breathless shades into east,
Umbrella-like shade on two bare sticks chuckles,
Then manages to creep to me as a tamed beast.
The cold mist blurs the scene frequently on time,
All love when it prevails to hide their loneliness,
The station, the bell, the rails and the only being.
The quiet ...