The Passing Train

THE PASSING TRAIN Iam inside the fastest train, This is not my very first time Nor there is changes to define, Same destination on my brain. Once a green field now harvesting, But I don't know the reapers song Because Iam moving along, The harvesters are jollying. Staring at the passing houses, Whether the same people staying Those cows the same ones seen grazing, My memory minimises. At one place a dirty black pond, An oasis for cows and birds The long legged white birds play sports, With the cows to show sign of bonds. Cauliflowers forms a jungle, Mango trees looks like broccolli Dry terraced fields a moor broadly, Corn hairs like king's mane in shambles. The round sun began to set in, Slowly like a blazing fire The western sky dance with desire, I saw it from the moving train. Watisungla Ao 27/03/2013