A Bird of Passage

Riding on the same route monotonously,

With a lifeless crowd of mundane madness,

I never bothered who boards or drops,

I cared way too less:

Whether the seat next is filled or empty,

I felt empty and numb from within...

One such usual day:

A nomad in formal executive attire 

Boarded and filled the seat next,

When the whole transport was empty. 

Indeed, I never noticed his presence,

I was lost in the vicious virtual world, 

He leaned across and opened the window, 

Annoyed with the whooshing wind,

I turned to ask him to close the window:

His eyes were closed, 

His neck was stretched, 

His lips were spread, 

His hair was flowing,

Instantly, my lips spread wide too.

The journey instantly changed,

As he whispered many poems, 

With or without words... 

His gravely grey executive looks 

Never matched his vibrant joyous spirit,

Yet he chose the attire he wears,

Over the spirit he holds,

Indeed, he got dropped sooner than I expect,

He just disappeared into the corporate crowd,

I never closed my window after that,

I hear a poem from every tree that passes by,

The whooshing wind sings to me songs,

The bird of passage stirred the sleeping bird in me...