Poem

As I rode from London to Glasgow

I noticed a sight once familiar

I blinked my eyes hoping it was so,

And it was! A long Indian plait

Lying innocently over the seat

Bringing back many memories

Of rich dark hair of sisters and mother

Braided and fragrant with flowers

Hair once so familiar and now replaced

By cropped fair and bleached British hair

A welcome respite among the redheads and blondes

Lay the innocent snake of rich dark hair.

As the train rumbled on

Light shone through the panes

And was caught by the hair so glossy and dark

and revealed hints of red and brown.

As I gazed at the reminder of my past

a custom so common in my country place

once adopted by me, but now cast

aside by my ‘rebellious side’ which made

my head home to a chic bobbed wave

or a ‘chicken’s nest’ as my mother would say.

As the train rumbled to a halt

the owner of the object of my interest

(or ‘tamer’ should I say with respect to hair)

Stood straight and shook herself

Ridding herself of the tiredness of a journey so long

And as I watched in dismay

Unwound her beautiful braid

and put it up in high ponytail.  

 Shruti