Friday, 16 November 2012

The Rush Hour Dreamer

                     The Rush Hour Dreamer

The morning sun rises,
over the city of London
one cold November's day,
and you're torn,
from the solitude of sleep
as you switch off your alarm
stay calm
and get ready,
for the day.

You leave
and so do they
and slowly the tube
fills with suits
Go on, and shine-  
You have a story to share
but you never dare
to look him in the eye

He does,
He looks
and he yearns
and he learns
from you,
the people
of the city too.
across the platform
you will find him
standing, waiting, 
stories in his mind
you will find
he's always there
amidst the warmth
of the crowd-
the train,
a place to regain

Life is fraught
with injury
he thought
every morning-
and every morning
you're throwing it away
sleepwalking from day to day
playing games,
twiddling thumbs
he hums
to himself.
So am I. 
So let us waste 
the days, together 
these tethers chain us 
of social conformity
different forms 
of being.
Let us break these bounds
that confound

You saw him
twice, thrice
a million times.

What a strange thing,
rush hour on the tube.
With nowhere to go
 he grows!
He grows and ages
with the changing of paces
and the changing of lines-
black and yellow and blue
and so do you. 

He never misses his train
for his train of thought
departs with it.
The rush hour dreamer
alone, is prone
to outbursts, 
yet- in a crowd
remains unknown...