Had dream’t of flying to far off Spain
tickets we did not obtain in any plane
She asked how the dream would sustain
I told her we could always get a train
that passed through the terrain of Spain
We had barely got into a crowded train
when it started to mighty heavily rain
having the crowd seeming so insane
only one person Jane, she looked sane.
When I started looking at her again
she seemed to be in some sort of pain
efforts to reach to her were all in vain
when, of a sudden, our train hit a crane
that somehow got stuck in wet terrain.
We seemed to lose contents of our brain
comforting, as in, no gain without pain,
could you tell, amid tears, are we in Spain?
the strain was much, though, to ascertain
we looked like people hit with dirt cocaine
though in our plan was, old Champagne…
This poem came to me with the recent rains in Bahrain.