Ram sat thinking, worried and
still,
His son was sick, lying weak and
ill.
On a train seat, his heart felt
tight,
Tears in his eyes, hiding from
sight.
Beside him slept a tired man,
Leaning close as the journey ran.
Ram felt bothered, but then he
thought,
“Maybe he’s tired, maybe he
fought…
…Some silent trouble I cannot
see,
Let him sleep, he’s not hurting
me.”
Hours went by, Ram closed his
eyes,
Sleep came slowly like evening
skies.
Now when the man leaned once
more,
Ram felt softer than before.
They spoke a while, heart to
heart,
Two strangers, not so far apart.
The man was Rahim, a father too,
His son was fighting for life
anew.
Two nights he spent without a
bed,
Watching by his child’s head.
His eyes were heavy, full of
pain,
But still he faced that crowded
train.
Now Ram’s heart, it gently broke,
No anger left, no words he spoke.
He bent his shoulder, firm and
wide,
Letting Rahim rest by his side.
Sympathy saw a man in pain,
Empathy walked in the same lane.
But compassion held him, strong
and true,
The kind of love the world needs too.
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