The Driver
I get into the chariot. .
The chariot that's all white and full. .
I sit before he pulls the reins. .
And see him through the mirror,
Looking at me for consent to drive away. .
I say yes, but silently and the engine throbs,
Jet speed and he knows how it would feel for me..
Just to see me scared, he would pull the reins harder,
And look at me through the mirror,
And smile as though he was the god of death,
I would straighten up,
To make him lose his pride,
Of being able to scare me,
But he knows I am doing it deliberately,
He laughs, sarcasm full to the brim,
And surprisingly I don't feel bad,
I smile and look outside for inspiration.
And then he would pull the reins,
Even more harder,
Hard that I wont be able to see anything outside,
Cos everything would just buzz past,
The speed gets to my nerves,
Not anger, but excitement, like a child,
I have no fear of death,
I have company. in fact many,
Some young, some old,
I thought I was in the midst of the journey of life,
I was already advancing ..and too fast too!
He is annoyed that I don't look at him,
So he speeds up,
And I scream from inside,
It shows on my face,
And he sees me look at him,
He thinks I asked him to slow down,
And so he does, but with a smile, sarcasm full to the brim.
I am happy he is happy. . .
Copyright © Varna Paniyath | Year Posted 2011
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