Traffic: The Rush Hour

Peeping out through my window,
I find nothing but chaos,
People running helter- skelter,
for they have no time to waste.

Chores over in the blink of an eye,
By beings of magic,
A swish of the wand,
A click and all in right place.

Competition- Life's a race,
The first to finish in a fast pace,
Is said to be the successful one,
Is said to be the great one.

But man, what about the last,
What about him/her you ask?
Why leave your brethren there,
It's human values to help other's.

So stop,stop for a minute,
Think back,
Try to help, Try to pause,
For then you would notice.

The beauty your life is,
The beauty it would have been,
if you had left the past,
And forgotten about the future,
And stayed in the present.

For then you then you would have stopped,
Stopped and helped those you simply passed,
Thinking they are nothing but scum,
Thinking their hums- tuneless,
not worth, nor praisable.

For then you would have noticed,
Noticed even the smallest things and be contended,
A smile booming in that face,
The smile being a true one, blessed and heartfelt.

Heartfelt

The shifting gazes,
A mocking look,
Gale of the unknown,
As he traversed the creek.

Footpaths thought long lost,
Into the familiar he traveled,
One foot at a time,
Anticipation as his beat.

A house at a distance blurred,
As his eyes gave out,
Tears roll down his face,
His feet refusing to give.

Hope and confusion in the eyes,
Onwards he looks,
A  mother and child reflected,
Kindled in his soul of truth.

The handle turns,
As the light falls,
A woman is seen,
Sewing sweater in a corner.

'Mother' the man croaks,
His sound lost to the creek,
As if like a gurgling stream,
All that came was a quaking voice.

A head turns abrupt,
Shock reflected in the eyes,
A man at the doorstep,
Blurred due to the incoming light.

She saw a face once thought  lost,
Tears dealing rich,
One step at a time she took,
Hoping the Mirage was real.

She ran towards her son,
Holding her baby in her arms,
Hands running all through,
Looking at her child.

Words were naught as she looked,
Onto the war torned body of her son,
Scars criss crossed his body,
Revealing a tale of valor.

The mother and son stood at the doorway,
As twin stars in the celestial sky,
The morning mist seemed to creep in,
As they looked onwards at each other,

A true smile dawned on their faces,
Smiles reflected through the eyes,
Their life renewed with hope,
As their soul harbored at home.