The Woman On Platform Number Ten

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 38; the thirty-eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "The Woman on Platform Number 10"

The Woman On Platform Number Ten

Still I remember the day when,

I met the woman on platform number 10.

Few years back,in the month of July,

I was at station waiting for my train,

Going to meet a client which on me rely,

It was twenty passed ten,when rain began,

The place was silent except sound of thunders,

Draped in white salwar-kameez with red border,

Came she grabbing attention of me and few vendors,

A mesmerising wet beauty of top order,

She came and sit beside me on bench,

Smiled,greeted and asked my name,

Sweet voice,her style in my heart made a love trench,

Sure was I that she was feeling the same,

First time I don't blame railways for delay.

At around midnight we took something to eat,

and in each other's arms quietly we lay,

A moment no other thing could beat.

But suddenly she stood as train approached and stopped,

Hugged and kissed a man stepped down from the train,

He was her husband! I was still and shocked,

time pass for her was I all emotions were fake and in vain.

Why she did this to me was still a mystery,
Perhaps feeling safe in my company on that deserted place,
Her trust was for me now misery,
Never after that I found her trace,

But it's difficult to forget the day when,

I met the woman on platform number 10.

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