A Woman in Love

Writing a poem after a long time. Was inspired by this episode, but not enough to actually put it down on paper. Then Himank’s poem showed the way.

Finally settled in the packed compartment,

my brow was wet from the sun.

“When will the train start”, I thought

impatient to leave the station.

My gaze strayed outside,

pillar to post, door to door

and when it rested on the seat in front

it could wander no more.

For there sat quietly,

talking into the phone

a girl, as beautiful as ever existed

as far as I had known.

My critical mind took her in,

her eyes were pools of dark.

But so too was the complexion,

nothing that would leave a mark.

Her hair was thick and dark,

tied up firmly in a braid.

No city ‘posh spice’ this, my type,

she was a small-town maid.

Slipping over to firm hands,

bangles and bracelets were cute.

figure, well, a wee bit too full

underneath the plain Salwar Suit.

With a ‘What nonsense! What’s so great’

I regarded her as a whole again.

And there she was,

as beautiful as when we began.

‘How the…’ as I stared at her, puzzled,

she smiled, turned red, laughed into the phone

then bit her lip, glanced upward,

caught me looking and talked in a hushed tone.

And seeing her thus, the secret

of her beauty hit me, by Jove

She was so beautiful, for the simple reason

That she was A woman in love!