Train Station

She sits back with her legs crossed

With a book in one hand,

A bracelet in the other being tossed

She sits back leaning forward a little

With thick round glasses,

Her concentration seems to be brittle

She sits on a bench while I stand at a distance

With one hand in pocket,

I am attracted to her, there is no resistance

Her hair is black like a lonely night

She has tied them up into a bun

I want to talk to her, but don’t have the might

Her fingers wave through her hair

Like cotton floating on silk

Beauty simply seems to be her flair

Our eyes meet once her hands are down

The trance I was in breaks

And there was the train’s alarming sound

I get on the train, finding number forty two

Can you guess who I found there?

Yes it was her compartment too

We now sit, facing each other

There are freckles on her cheek

Let me tell you what happens further

She looks up and our eyes meet again

I notice that her lips are pink and look away

You see, my eyes don’t know how to bargain

I try to make a conversation or at least a sound

But only syllables come out of my mouth

They fall on my lap, nowhere to be found

She shuffles her legs one more time

Determined to talk to her, I open my mouth

Failure here would be the utmost crime

I open my mouth to speak and make a gesture

But the sound heard was of the train’s horn

Embarrassment hits me like a gigantic hammer

This is her stop, she gets off to the station

The gesture is still suspended in the air

I glanced at the platform, finding some compensation

I find her walking down the exit gate

I want her to turn around, to ask her name

She turns around to me and smiles, checkmate


Originally posted on my blog:

Published by Jaydeep Bansal


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