tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7902881.post111166454127906356..comments2023-10-26T01:41:51.813-07:00Comments on Ruminations of a rambunctious, rusted, reckless, raunchy, rabble-rousing raconteur: Trains and meAnwesha Chatterjeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046031172838103941noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7902881.post-46947464043575741082007-02-22T03:41:00.000-08:002007-02-22T03:41:00.000-08:00You and your trysts with the trains at 7:32 are me...You and your trysts with the trains at 7:32 are melancholic and yet such eyeopeners. You should start and compiling all your works.. It is a lovely read. Especially the one that seems to stem out of your deepest realizations:<BR/><I><BR/>After a while you learn the subtle difference between <BR/>Holding a hand and chaining a soul, <BR/>And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and <BR/>Company doesn't mean security, <BR/><BR/>And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts <BR/>And presents aren't promises, <BR/>And you begin to accept your defeats with your head <BR/>Up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, <BR/>Not the grief of a child, <BR/><BR/>And you learn to build all your roads on today <BR/>Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans. <BR/>After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much. <BR/>So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, <BR/>Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. <BR/><BR/>And you learn that you really can endure . . . <BR/>That you really are strong, <BR/>And you really do have worth.And you learn and you learn . . <BR/></I>Oirpushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12835021843619108922noreply@blogger.com