Morning Blues

What keeps you awake brother, 

Too young to be called a man and too old for a boy.

The morning train covering miles with passengers sleepy;

   Already tired before the mundane Monday rush. 

Oh boy, what wakes you up when your peers are still in bed,

Too drowsy to wake up for the morning tea. 

And here you are. Perhaps the only surviving child of an old lady, 

Who wakes up at dawn to prepare dishes of your choice. 

And you set out for the first train carrying the fragrance

Oof your small dwelling even before the sun's wide awake;

Too broken to leave at an early hour. 

Perhaps a Prince, for that suits your look the best,

Pulled out of bed to fulfill the dreams in those endearing eyes. 

Eyes not ready to perceive the light yet wide open even in the faint light.

Is it the dream that keeps you awake in the warm morning. 

The window seat, the light breeze, the loud silence, and everything fails,

Fails to lull you back to sleep. 

The Old, the Young, the Child, still drowsy:

Least prepared for the day,

And here you are with those endearing wide-open eyes; 

Is it the dream dear, 

That keeps you awake? 

 

OR, 

Is it that old lady's ( whom you call mother ),

And your stomach that kicked you out of your cozy bed i

Into a train that's no place for a Prince like you. 

What is it dear, 

That keeps you wide awake ... 

As if you just witnessed some gruesome bombing of world wars ?? 

Crossing the meadows, the train moves. 

Crossing the stratosphere, troposphere, ionosphere, the sun descends, lighting up the world. 

What keeps crossing your mind lad that you fail to notice these beauties,

Even the damsel crossing the stream?? 

The cruel material world seems to have robbed you of your youth, 

Youth so desired by those dead, 

Dead people by your side.