By The Window Seat Poem by arsmitha khanna

Lust in the air wakes me up,
While i share the window seat with-
an outlander but of the same tongue;
Head tilted,
I witness:
Buildings, tall and stout, in race'
Trees of all sizes dangling
to the rhythm of the track'
Spotlights swimming across the lake
turning black in the dark'
While boulders on either side tremble,
On which the timid green sprouts'
And in minutes time,
Noisy creaks of the rusty door in blue throw,
Which a concrete punch to the ears,
Reveal as i halt,
By a barren platform with grinning yellow fences'
Holding hands they try to outreach,
As i move onward, Nevertheless i flake off!

Not too far,
The holy cross, the green crescent and the golden bell
Stand- as neighbours singing love,
In a country of religious rebels...
Ha!
Irony of its own floats, like oil in water,
And a smile sympathetic, Stretches out over my cheeks,
For none's aware of it!

Forthwith, the air around turns black,
Petrified, i panic leaping out...
Where the sour clouds bear no moon,
And the violet land holds no stone;
Faces none reach my sight,
Folly enough...not even my own nails'
When messy whispers assure me its a tunnel!
And slowly everything reappeares,
Like a rainbow in the rain;

With a dozing grandpa opposite,
And a lounging ten year old beside,
My eyes softly shut over the dusky wax,
To the tranquil breeze the train drags... Now! Darkness all around... Darkness all around... #peace