I could have stopped

It was one of those afternoons
It was one mood after the other
As the road curved and curved and curved
I forgot where I was headed
Somewhere along midway,
It was the failure of a young love
Or on second thoughts, not really that
I wished there was something to fail
Something to feel bad for
But on second thoughts, we will skip that.

Let’s get to the road; we had reached the city by now
So whenever we do these roads,
There is the outskirt obviously
Where we start at
Then there is that long highway that refuses to go city
And it is quite pleasantly long, and dreary
And dusty, and this, and that.

Then comes the city
Crowded, with faces, with smoke.
I really don’t mind all that
When the mood swings,
And it is always the search
For the right one.

Then, as we realized we were getting deeper,
The city started receding its lines
The fatigue took over
The kinds you would not mind
If you were searching like me

And then, as we were almost getting done with the ride
With a little melancholy showing up now
The kinds that it often comes along with
I could see the familiar signs, shops,
Everything began to make sense unfortunately, now.

As I almost gave in to the realities now,
I saw a hurdle, the kinds that add to your disgust at such points,
Often, on such long ride evenings.
So the hurdle, was a momentary one.
And as I soon realized, the moment was over.
All the earlier moment gave me, was a glance.
I did get a glance.
But the glance didn’t get me.

And it took me another few blocks to learn
What had just missed me
While I was busy counting the moments
Should I have stopped and completed the glance?
Should I have said a thing or two?
Should I have stopped?
What would I say?

May be it was meant to be looked that way
Just like a partial glance, an unfinished drink.