Me sitting at half past twelve
On the stairs of a railway platform
The footfalls have fallen
And the floor beneath the staircase
Shrieks out..come out of it
The last train has left
And the tracks glare past
In the shimmering moonlight
But the mind stays in the past
Waiting for the last whistle
The little fluttering of the red flag
That says all’s well; yet people
Wait past the midnight hour
For the sounds of the changing lines
And the whispering of the overdrawn coaches
That are yet to arrive
With hopes yet to live and enact
In the play called life
I wait for the whistling beauty
Shrouded in the thick black smoke
The eyes are weary...heavy
From the weight of anticipation
The heart says go on nobody’s coming
The mind says wait as life
Surely gives another chance
The body says who cares
Just snuggle past the foot falls
Give me a rest and wait for the train
That is yet to juggle past and make
The wait a possible reality !!
YOU ARE READING
Anticipation
PoetryThese poems are my thoughts of expectations from others; be it your family or the love of your life..... These are my feelings.. people may not relate to it....but those who relate and appreciate please follow my work and be a part of my thought pro...
