It's November Already

The thick fog I see

All around me

Its November already, 

And as cold as can be. 

The dark peaks on one side, 

The grey one outlining the black, 

And a greyish mountainfloor on the other, 

With other trains occasionally, 

I sit in my seat, 

And everything goes black

As a tunnel eats me. 

I witness many trees;

Thin mango leaves waiting for the sun to once again come and see

Tall coconut palms, reaching for the  dusky sky

Monkey branches in spiky brooms, 

And none of them in any kind of bloom. 

The sky is blue, 

To dark burgundy

Indigo it goes 

From grey of all woes

Only to turn all black in the end. 

But why do i not see the black? 

Perhaps it's the lights in every second house

Perhaps it's the yellow, green, red and blue fireflies

Or Maybe it's just one lamp with moths 

The crickets sing in chorus 

As the birds end their concert, 

The snakes ring their rattle

And the dogs howl in, 

It's the opera of the night, 

With the moon as the spotlight. 

Context: I was going to my hometown with my dad to my side, on the 1st of November, during the Indian Festival of Lights, Diwali, in a train