By Talha Bin Ehtasham
Today is the third day since you left.
Overnight; on that same express train,
Like countless times before.
This time though
feels the worst.
I know you missed home
and that you had plans,
But seriously, two months!
Even you know that you’ll end up bored
Come to think of it,
I didn’t give you much reason to stay either.
Maybe that’s why I turn now to this poem
Or maybe I’m just an idiot.
Today I heard your voice over the telephone.
Everything was alright you said,
But you sounded worn