The Girl On The Train

By Vipul Sehgal

And I board the train.

Again.

It's Monday.

A paltry leaf in the dense foliage

dangling on a meagre branch,

swaying to the ruse

of the mindless deluge.

Lest i'm to breathe

in the fickle breeze

sans refuge.

And when the mortal press is fluttered

by the periodic gust,

flutter as well my eyes to scour,

to catch a fleeting glimpse

of that delectable flower.

Which but bloomed just once

on that day of long ago,

that day of happenstance,

that day of celestial fate

when fate conferred a chance.

The dazzling green,

the autumn rain,

the howling winds,

then brown insane

sunder the leaves,

one by one,

off the train.

The leaves shall crowd the tree again,

come again the howling winds,

again my eyes will flutter too,

come summer, autumn and spring.

Would come my way

that beatific day,

her guise parts the sea

and she adorns this prosaic tree.

Fate pedals the trodden path.

But today

it was not to be.

And I'm the only thing

stranded

at the end of the spring.

By Vipul Sehgal