Tired of tired fingers, turning its pages again.
An old, open novel, fanned down on my chest in disdain,
As tired eyes, sought oasis in the desert of my languor,
I scoured the world, through the halved window of my train.
Ten and two hours’d tired me, yet I had more time to kill.
Wrapped up tight in stolidity to cheat the winter chill.
And then it came and hit me, like a fresh breath of fragrant air.
In the melee of a moving train, time seemed to stop still.
A thing of beauty is joy for ever, odists say.
I gasped for words to describe elegance walking my way.
An Angel in Blue, a creature of stupendous perfection,
Any eulogy of her heavenly beauty, seemed a lame cliche.
Like clear sparkling water, that rushes down a splendid ravine,
Like a new tender leaf swaying in the breeze of God’s design.
She came and sat herself on that vacant seat before me
No Earthly synonym of beauty could match her form divine.
My tired, slouching body, found an excuse to sit up straight.
The reason of my existence, suddenly seemed to fall in place.
Like the bright blue moon, veiled behind the dark clouds of night.
My heart skipped a few beats when her dark locks fell over her face.
Day turned to night, and then night turned back to day.
I stayed a silent admirer, but not a word did she say.
She undesigned alluring gaze made me weak at the knees.
God’d been unfair to her, He must’ve took ages to make her this way.
And then like how she’d come, she was gone in a flash.
Feeling her way through the compartment, smiling, holding her father’s hands.
I stood there shocked, muted, I wanted so much to say.
She’d left her Braille books behind, but she’d taken my breath away.