Strangers meeting on a midnight train,
We shook the cars, rattling through the land.
It seems that I am crying in the rain.
You surely thought that we had gone insane,
Days spent in skin and sweat, teeth and toes and --
Forgive me, friends; I sing a tired strain.
Who am I to weep of endless pain?
All love must die, bright castles built in sand.
It seems that I am crying in the rain.
Are you not weary of my sad refrain?
Who'd think that love so brief would leave a brand?
Forgive me, friends; I sing a tired strain.
Better love dies before it starts to wane;
That little time we shared was rather grand.
It seems that I am crying in the rain.
Forgive me, friends; I sing a tired strain.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
July 13, 1996