WINDOW SEAT

Not everyone gets the window seat,
who lurks outside and watch the reaper,
who fly with the birds and dance with the peacocks,
who witness the half sunk houses and the black clouds,
who feels the sunny sky and the women with wooden baskets,
who smiles at the barefoot cricketers and at their sweaty shirts,
who offer water bottles to the workers at the track
and reach a new life.

There are some in the middle,
with baggage under the seat
and phones in the pocket,
who are unmoved and sleep to pass the monotony,
who wake up when the journey stops and forget the seats.

Then there are few in the middle who peep outside and
breathe the fresh air,
who are far from the window
but still live outside,
who hear the sound of the engine
and move with the moving trees,
who ask the window seat fellow about the view
and share the popcorn.

Not everyone remember the windowpane but some do,
Not everyone capture the journey but some do.