the train
the hand guiding this train hasn't had a rest since September,
and my mind too
has been moving, moving, moving
with it.
i see the white sails unfurling,
the waves gently shifting, rising, falling...
sunrise over a winter world,
the spring that never came
but a forgotten memory in the wake of new light.
the summer moon shines bright
and the sprinklers play a symphony with the crickets in the forest.
the night is lovely
one, two, three, four, five
hundred thousand times this train has stopped
but never for long - always moving, always moving,
moving on.
never waiting
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
