SIGNALS

POEM

Held up on the tracks of life

I am waiting for the

red signal turn green

for the train of life

proceeds ahead to reach

my destination in the

peak hours of the morning.

The boss would remind me,

once in a while its okay

but whenever I evolve into a chronic absentee

as punishment I will have to

suffer loss of leave.

The gentleman or for that matter

the gentle lady who is

seated conveniently in the chair

in the air-conditioned cabin

need not find out

the reason for one

to reach the office.

I often wonder

the gentleman or for that

gentle woman doesn’t seems like

experiencing the hazards

of travelling if and when purchasing ticket for the

first class compartment

early in the morning by

catching the train or own car

arrive at the office.

On the whole a

human-being’s

commuting start from

faraway station and often

I have lost counting how

many red and green signals

are to be obeyed for the

train of life to reach

the destination…