The train..again

A most beautiful yawn, interrupting blissful slumber
A subtle silent twitch, a silent moan
And back he went to his coveted reserve
Five kilos of pure peace treats my eye
Tucked cosily in a warm woollen drape
And an even warmer mother’s bosom
(Wait I already hear an Awwww...)

Cuddly, carefree and...crying?
Oh, the baby is awake
Did my supposedly powerful stare
Excite him from ground state?
Nay! Its jus time for him to cry
It’s a baby thing..they sleep n they cry.
And then sleep again..

They don’t bother if their bib matches their shirt
Or don’t stare at me wondering if I get paid more than they do
And no they don’t care if India wins the test match
And no he’s not guessing the model of my mobile phone.
Babies..I understand "bliss" now

How I wish I were a baby..
Hmm I’ll never be that again
But neither will he.
The one thing everyone on earth does together.
Get old.

The baby forced me to write today.
The train .....again

Cradles most of my ideas
Baby distracted me
I write on ..giving in to my pen
And its meandering ways

I’ll take a break and walk along the train.
It’s my favourite pastime
Second only to stargazing and may be meeting people
Not to forget reading
Okay..I walk when I’ve nothing else to do.
I reach the door and let the wind blow through my hair
While I still have some.

The stars taunt me from their eternal perch.
I turn away from the threshold before it breaks mine.
I move onto the next bogie through the vestibule,
Hmm I always had a fascination for them..
They have this ...oh my god here we go..
I’m jerked to reality from verses about vestibules
By a bang on my head against the responsibly rolled shutters
At times like this, and those when I get a side berth allotted
I wish I could lose a foot or two from the six I have.

I let the train sound take me through the bogies,,
I met many people, guessed things about them
About their work and their minds..pure or perturbed
I’m mostly right. I’m not being judgemental.
I just read them .like books from their covers.
Give me a meeting with anyone,
I’ll tell u most things about them
Give me two, and they’ll tell you about me.

I return to the berth, always upper.
And get lost in the babies antics.
Do they get these eyes made?
Where does the sparkle go when they grow up?
It’s a sparkle born out of ignorance and equipoise.
No wonder it dims later in life.,but all babies have it., they do.
And before I know it, I tucked the little devil to sleep.
(The noun intended as revenge for making me change my shirt)

So I stare at the totally unergonomic fan alignment,
And wonder how the design can be optimised.
Oh I’m a geek at times.
Then I notice how my feet are just shy of overhang
And curl myself to sleep.
I wake up and it’s time to go home.