A Droplet in the Sea

This poem was written way back in May. 6th May to be precise. My friend Zena suggested that I should post this up. Well here it is. It was written while I was traveling by train and there was an old man sitting opposite me, although the conversation at the end is entirely fictional.

 

A Droplet in the Sea

 

I charge into the train,

towards the window seat.

Sits in front of me, a man,

so frail, even a child could beat.

 

His clothes are shoddy,

dirty too.

His spectacles are aged,

made in Nineteen Seventy Two.

 

His heart ticks

like the watch on his hand.

Don't know how much time it has,

The batteries going off.

 

An eyelash lies above his mouth,

A wish, he has, unfulfilled.

He wipes his entire face.

Alas! The chance is killed.

 

He is tired and weary,

waiting for his destination.

The next stop is his,

the time is not a question.

 

"What will you do," he asks,

"writing a poem about me?"

"Few years down the line, my son,

you, too, will be a droplet in the sea."