Home

Take me home, will you, traveler?
After we meet on that train to somewhere.

Your smile opens a book..
Away I look;
But then again,
I look at you with half-desire
To read a word, maybe two
To read of you.

We dine apart, in quietude.
When sun goes down, in a crimson hue,
We meet again - Our solitudes.
Canvas of silence, few strokes of blue,
The trees slow down
As evening paints a new Monet;
Of me, and you.

Take me home, will you, traveler?
After we say goodbye, on our ways to somewhere..

When fingers touch in transience,
It could open another book.