these train windows; have been eyes for myriad wanderers, have witnessed their journeys.
such a thing they are; if you sit on one side, you feel the world is moving but
if you stand on the other side, your world is steady but someone else's is drifting.
they sweat in rains, they sing in winds, they listen and whispers to vales.
when you see sleepers slipping away from tracks, these windows see their end.
these train windows; are shoulders to the crestfallen, papers when clouds come down.
i was working on it for a competition but i missed the deadline as the internet in the state was halted. anyways this isn't complete yet.