[Poetry] ” While I Travel”

Every morning,I have to travel

Physically, emotionally, methaphorically.

Glance through the bus window ,

through the looking glass.

I look into the strange past,

Stranger future; being certainly uncertain.

Sometimes a tickle of emotions,

On few days, a fickle jubilance.

Like a dreamer I dream,

of the  rocky bank of a river.

Running my hand over the waves of water,

the waves of struggle, the flow of life.

Yet the undying zest,

following the path of passion.