Passenger Cab Ride

Warming my arms, I sat next to my shadow,
Thinking, watching life running outside the window,
Being the passenger, I smiled and waved goodbye,
Asking the driver, to listen and ply,
Looking through the mirror, his eyes met mine,
I asked him to slow, to enjoy, to cherish, to smile,
He, smiled softly, yet fake through his wrinkled cheeks,
 I ignored, watching my shadow play with sunbeams,
It burned, healed, danced, camped with silhouettes,
Dawn as well as dusk befriended, together, they enjoyed,
Chuckled the white pale wrinkled lips, I looked upto the mirror,
Surprise to me, as he was warm yet cold, as if living yet withered,
He laughed at shadow and its playfulness, while he paced,
Rushing to reach the destination, I wanted to enjoy, but he wanted to haste,
 I couldn’t steer, sitting in the back of this passenger cab,
I was the passenger, and he, just some wrinkles on face,
“Cracks from experience”, he told me,
But, I didn’t understand and kept watching,
“At this age, where my destination collides with yours,
Haste is my answer, and silently captivating is yours,
While your shadow screams for you, and lives for you”,
He said it all, I sat there clueless, watching into the mirror of dew,
As dew covered it, his fake smile kept me glued my eyes onto his,
And, he listened to me once, silently, we reached,
My shadow, vanished, and he waited for me to deboard,
Silently, his wrinkles increased slightly,
Silently, he smiled once more, fake yet warmly.