The Train Home

Today was a cloudy day. But that's not what I came to say. As the train pierced through the flesh of darkness, deeper and deeper it went. To the heart of darkness. Little huts with kerosene afterglows weaved a dream into the darkness. Like the silver of a full moon night. Only yellower. Only mellower. Only more magical. The wind was full of promises of fulfillment, if you listened carefully. Breaths were lifted in the wind till they went out of the doors on the opposite, way up. They met the sighs from long back and exchanged pleasanteries. But you could not hear that.