Wednesday, January 23, 2013

A Train Runs

photo source
There is a station that crosses the hill near my house.

The trains run at midnight.  

One blow of the horn, followed by chugging engines.

It sounds like your heart.

The scrape of metal sliding to a distant shore.

Methodic. Heavy.  

I hear your love leaving my bed.

We both accept a sprinkle of days of happiness.

Fear is the moat guarding our "ever after."

We leave it.

The risk seems too much to endure.

The sounds of the train fade.


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