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The Night TrainSometimes when I lie awake
and hear the piercing whistle, the night seems blacker, the desolation of sorrow greater. I think of loneliness and the vast coldness that can separate people. These thoughts spin like a child pedaling a tricycle in endless circles. Then the train rumbles away and the deep silence returns. I hear her breathing, its peaceful, calming rhythm. The space of melancholy grows smaller and the spinning stops. I think of the train reaching the next town, I embrace love and hope, and remember how fortunate I am. Published in Verse-Virtual, January 2018 |
