Thursday morning encounter

Its a Thursday morning.
People are hurrying
like ants.
All in motion,
trying to get somewhere.
Probably their non-desirable nine to fives.
Heads buried in flimsy screens,
ears plugged.
Seeming focused.
Ignoring their kind.
March rain falls quietly.
Seated at last, I notice
a child of four
beside me.
With his mud brown skin,
glistening.
Face pressed against the glass,
counting the drops on the window
or trees in interminable distance.
I can’t tell.
Occasionally breaking the silence
with loud abrupt noises;
unafraid of attention.
His curiosity grows and spreads
beyond the passing sceneries.
He’s so unlike human.
I can’t relate to him.
I sense a peculiar space between us.
Like he’s close enough for me to touch,
yet light years away.

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One comment

  1. Childhood, it’s one of those beautiful things like sunset that we so deeply desire, because of the mere reason it’s fleeting.

    Beautifully written!

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