On a sunny friday evening I stood between,

The pressure of weary bodies returning home.

They were all wearing bags of responsibilities,

On their shoulders and sweating off distress.

All fed up with work with no breaks between. 

While clinging to a bar, I peeped into a tired face.

He carried a gray bag full of textbooks for college.

He wore nerdy glasses and rarely looked happy.

I recalled how pathetic everyone are as busy bees,

Sucking money out of withered flowers in a haze. 

No where in the train was a soul gay as a bird.

No where in the train was a soul free as a bird.

Times where we all sat around grandma’s chairs,

Listening to fairy tales vanished to dust wickedly,

And we never again got hours to play so freely. 

The train went hooting pass a row of houses,

And rain came pouring down kissing a group,

Of busy kids busy with making boats to float,

Away their innocent dreams in bloated canals.

While some fighted playfully over tiny candies. 

The train went hooting pass a row of houses,

Where kids were watching cartoons with no,

Deadlines to devour them and steal happiness.

When could I cuddle again with my mother,

I always wonder while being inside busy trains.

A poem based on the theme “Back to childhood”. 

By Ashmini Kalika Karunarathne