Clinging to the edge of the seat,
With only half of her butt resting on it.
Sliding would it go, so frequently, so easily;
With each rhythmic jerk the train made.
The tin containers, the bottles, the cartoon boxes,
And the skinny knees that collided with hers,
Were innumerable yet inevitable,
The cumulous effect of which a throbbing would pain would it instigate.
Ticking were the minute and second hands of her watch,
But at the pace of a snail’s glide.
Her dripping eyelids couldn't rally round,
But let her swing like a swaying flag in the breeze.
The sweet, sour, bitter smells that greeted her nostrils;
Was nothing but nauseating.
The incessant sounds of various indentations & purposes,
Plunged her into the awe hypnotism.
Having paid the same as others sitting gleefully on seats,
Yet given no seat of one’s own;
That’s how travelling in train is with your ticket in waiting lists;
When five have had to squeeze in two seats!