Walking down the road one day,
I heard a moody spotlight….oh ‘STOPlight’ say ‘Hey!’
It said “I am red; you have to stop and see,
For you I have remained the angry red, and not a mellow yellow, or a happy green genie!”
Then it took my hold,
And had its sad story told.
I said “Oh Dear! What makes you fear, so much that you remain the angry red and hide your emotions blue?”
It said “My friend! Please you become one, for around this place; I have nobody to turn up to.”
I asked the reason, why in the spring season, it had a dry wintry fall.
It told me how, in a moment of wow, it had a glimpse of pretty neighbors around,
And the chaos of the busy street through the day, in that beauty, seemed to make no sound.
But then comes this gloom, and the hazy doom, that most of its neighbors lay,
They were numb with cold, and not the clever bold, dumb in their frames, mute is how they stay,
When they stand by, never a word to wry, this one angry red that stopped me, while I was passing by,
Felt sad and lonely, with not a single ally.
It said it stands alone; everyone has to, till the day death crosses the shy.
‘Maintenance’ they say is what they require,
Otherwise they go completely haywire,
And the officials ‘their guards’, have nothing to protect,
For their own ‘maintenance’, they probably don’t respect,
Through crashes and trashes and all the lost things,
They say they will bear, and sit and enjoy all of their bling.
Then who takes the onus of responsibility, of all the lives that pass the angry red by,
And of its loneliness and melancholy,
For nobody now, it ever finds around, can be seen with a green jolly.
So calm it sounds through the words of depression, and exclaims how a world turns around!!
The rush, the emptiness, the silence and craziness, it will now only have to face all alone,
With no one else in and around so much and so good a disaster prone!!
For this one may die, like ‘the neighbors’ did…and now has a sad story,
For if the last ray of hope, we cannot preserve, what is the name in glory!!
Let’s do something together, to make this better, the little blue red had said,
It had a glitter and a hope in its eye, turned now a fiery brilliant red.
Ready to make way for the green, it said I am free to go,
And thoughtful it had left me; I could just not see another row.
Funny as it was, that day, the red traffic light talked to me,
And I was thinking all this while; will I ever find another talking free?
