The Transformation

The cold evening wind blows on my face
I wince in disapproval and button my jacket
Waiting on the street corner for amber to turn to green
These crossroads seem to be a reflection of my life

The old man huddles around the lighted fire
I toss a coin at him believing that my sins will vanish
I look up at heaven and wonder, is He watching?
If that is true how am I going to be judged?

I board the train and look out the window
The lights pass by like my tumultuous past
I walk the street past sounds of slumber
To my home, secure in the cocoon, my family

Copyright ©2009 Sunil Kurian