by David Smith

Created on: July 12, 2008

The train again

Mist, rain
The sound of the train.
The gentle sway and clatter again

My view through the glass
Is the blur of the grass,
the deadline, the crisis, whatever...

...water droplets slip,
along the window, then drip
off the speeding carriage, then splatter

I stare through the window,
Just letting time wander,
waiting for things to get better.

But then the clouds lift
and the colours of fields
seem brighter and golden, and lighter.

For there's always the sun,
and our far away friends,
These things will be with us forever.

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