The Escalator The city is awake, And people whizz by, Against a montage of grey, Too fast to even say hi. Someone is late to work, Someone has to reach home, “Excuse me, cabbie, sir, But is this the fastest you can go.” Time is money, they say, Forty minutes or more, Is worth a lot every day, To waste on going slow. But there is a place, Where time stands still, Where people forget their haste, And let peace settle in. It’s not the living room, Nor their warm bed, Not the toilet seat in the loo, Nor even after they are dead. It’s the escalator in the mall, And at the metro station too, Or in an office which is too tall, For the stairs to be of any use. I have seen people run, Across the floor at a hop, Yet as soon as they come, To the escalator, they stop. For a minute they will stand, Completely at rest, Wondering why they ever ran, They just suddenly forget. Till they reach the end, Of time which moves slower, And with a heavy sigh, then, Go back to pushing you over. Banker | Think Tanker | Science fiction Wanker | Advertising Cranker There is no stupid way to explain an intelligent idea.