The Stranger sitting besides me: Poem

 

The stranger sitting

Besides me,

Blank eyes, yet

Questioning within

Deep

The train might 

Be heading towards

One directions

Yet his own feet

Unknown to destination

The wanderer 

At his flee

Subtle yet

Floating like

Sea

Observing him

Carefully i realise

With the kiss of wind

He’s flaunting like

A tree

like a Marauder’s map

In his hand

Folded under

Layer de layer in

Pain

And as stations

Whispers by

His colors zealously

Unravel by

A soul enthethered

Yet gently rooted

Like drifted waves

Learning to be fluted.

Zahra Huma

Nov 29 2025