My last day in ****
When this happened, I had a hangover of 7 days. That was the most intense week of my life. I wrote the poem over those 7 days.
I have censored three words of the poem to make sure no one can find out the identity of the person I am referring to in the poem.
I had shared the poem with many asking for their opinion(read appreciation). Well, I am declassifying the poem now.
It was my last night in ****,
The end of my stay.
Off to my home town I was going,
Two comrades with me, helping.
It was a dark night and there was lightning,
Ferocious and frightening.
For the bus, we were waiting,
Which had no sense of timing.
It did come at last,
It didn't stop, and was going fast.
We had to shout and we had to scream,
Till the driver recovered from his dream.
I got into the bus alright,
But my luggage wasn't there quite.
Asked him to stop,
He didn't say nope.
And I was lucky,
There was space in the dickey.
I bid my comrades goodbye,
And got into the bus with a sigh.
The bus jerked and I fell,
Luggage in hand and clumsy as hell.
By jove, well o well,
What did I see, wait for a moment, I'll tell.
Nearby was a girl, sleeping on her seat,
I saw her and my heart missed a beat.
My classmate from **** ******, yes it was her,
No doubt about it, it was very clear.
Beautiful girl with a beautiful face,
In my mind, a soul full of grace.
Hadn't seen her since high school days,
Life surprises us in so many ways.
Then I got settled in my seat,
And hoped that my sight wasn't a cheat.
But the odds of the girl being someone else,
I realised were so very less.
So, assured I was that it was none but she,
I slept with at most glee.
Happy as anything, that moment was me,
With no worries except my broken knee.
At the same stop as mine, she got down,
I am lucky, I live in a small town.
While getting down, I stared at her to help her recognise
It wasn't easy I must say 'cos of my body's newfound size.
There she was, I was talking to her,
In my mind right now, its just a blur.
But I will never forget one image,
The value of this no one can ever gauge.
"Red salwar and blue jean,
On a body, beautiful and lean.
Shining eyes and pleasant face,
She was beautiful in so many ways."
My feelings to her, I haven't told,
I just have not become bold.
Neither do I know if she likes me or not,
How to do this I haven't thought.
After I deliberated a lot,
This is how I crystallized my thought.
And this is how I feel,
That I should deal.
"My life might not be great,
And she might not consider me a suitable mate.
But in life you have to sometimes wait,
I just hope by that time, it is not too late"
I am not sure if I have the same feelings now. I guess time changes everything.
But, at the time of writing the poem, every word was true, and nothing was inserted just to make it rhyme.