The Man On The Train Opposite To Mine

“You and I locked eyes between nightly trains.

You were on the 5:30 going east,
While I was on the 5:12 going south.

We were both tired after a long day.

The ring on your finger tells a story,
But I did not want to read such a thing.

I imagine your smell: cologne and soap.

When I look into your eyes my heart melts,
Like a drop of chocolate on the tongue.
While in my eyes you soared without a care,
Like an endless sky on a sunny day.

As my train pulls away from the station,
You watch me go and as fast as it began,
Our love fades away into memory.”


Authors note: This is a poem I wrote the other day while I was on the train waiting for it to leave from the station to take me home from work and noticed an attractive stranger across from me on a separate train going elsewhere.

I wrote the poem originally on the train but later changed it into the format of a Shakespearian sonnet. This format means each line has 10 syllables and there are 14 lines in all. Unfortunately I was unable to follow the rhyming part of the sonnet which goes AB-AB-CD-CD-EF-EF-GG, meaning the last word in line A rhymes with the last word in A and so on. It would have complicated the poem too much at this point but the challenge of getting the poem to 10 syllables in each line was challenge enough.

And I may have used a little poetic license as we didn’t ACTUALLY lock eyes, I stared at him but he never turned towards me, he continued to stare straight ahead so I only saw his face from the side. And I don’t actually know where he was going and at what time. But as a poet, you are allowed to make things up when you find your muse, who is otherwise a perfect target for a poem.

And now, here is my favourite Shakespeare sonnet, it’s formally known as Sonnet 130 (as Shakespeare didn’t usually name his sonnets) but also known as “My Mistress’ Eyes…”


“My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.”

As you can see, he follows his sonnet format with the AB-AB-CD-CD-EF-EF-GG rhyming and the fact there’s 14 lines in all and 10 syllables in each.
Although on the matter of syllables, it can be debated that some lines actually have 9 or 11 syllables but it depends how you say some words such as “damasked”.
I really like this sonnet just because he describes this woman who is anything but perfect, in fact, she’s just plain normal, but he loves her anyway.
Most people in poems try to make a person something they’re not, even I do it, for example my line about how he smells. How do I know he smells like that? He might smell like sweat and body odour but in my mind, he smells as good as he looks.
I like that Shakespeare doesn’t make his woman anything she’s not, he admits that her breath stinks and her voice doesn’t sound like gorgeous music but he loves her for all her imperfections and knows her well enough to admit she has these flaws.

Authors note is longer than the poem itself, typical!

Varelai.