Secrets

there are secrets we hide
when we go down the grey subway steps 

                                                                        the water was warm as the afternoon sun

                                                                        touching our boat, into the underground river

  

squeezed into the train corner,
not a muscle twitching as we read
our morning papers, a coffee in hand

                                                                        with our rain jackets, we rode into the mouth of the

                                                                        river shrouded with bats and flashlight,

we took in all the sights and sound of the cave, all senses alive 

                                                                                                                                                                  

as the train rolls and heaves
underneath the suits and heels
we hold our nostrils and our opinions
politely, our eyes peering the dusty floor

                                                                       as the paddle boat inched along dark wall,  

                                                                       your hand found me, followed by your lips 

                                                                       warm as the volcanic and granite stones,

                                                                       maps forgotten as we relished our exploration

the train halts on our station, we excuse
ourselves, and step into the steel pathway,
along with the rest of the crowd, we follow
shuffling our feet, bells ringing as doors close 

                                                                                     

                                                                       

it was an adventure of  the sun and islands,

the passageways in the dark tunnels smelled 

                                                                       our primal emotions, unleashed like piercing 

                                                                       cries of the bats clinging on the ceiling cave

  
we work and smile, great weekend, thank you
all polite, nice and routine as the subway schedule

                                                                       as the sun went down, we held on to each other

                                                                        fiercely as lovers departing on opposite platforms  

                                                                     

trying not to exhale the spice in our tongue 
trying not to burst into tears at the sight of the sun    

there are secrets we hide

when we go down the grey subway steps 

                                                                                

Posted for :   D'verse Poets Pub - Subway



picture credit:  here