Written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website – head over there to write, read and comment every weekend... you've still got time. This one is about a train journey. The passenger is gazing out of the window, looking back and forward.
Rail
sparks
We talk
in time of sober news,
Colours
fleshed out from the sun.
Paired
in vases, clipped tulips stand
To
attention, listening, not judging,
I decide.
Do they find us wanting,
Still
pretending to be bold?
They are
as we were in our youth,
Petal-soft,
unwrinkled, their fresh
Scent of
positivity taking the room.
They nod
in the summer breeze,
Offering
their sweet pollen with a
Suggestiveness
only known to bees.
Here are
the places where we walk,
The
spaces abandoned by walkers,
Who circled
in and out before us.
Their footprints
press into this earth
Like
restless roots, seeking to delve
In deep,
seeking a key to grounding.
The
memory twitches back and forth.
It’s
made for them to breathe and shout,
Petals.
Words. Words are everything.
They
stand waiting for an explanation.
This metal
lung chugs lonely in the dark,
Electric
sparks dance upon wet rails,
Flicker,
trigger, across this sombre field,
Wheels creaking
in a slow-drawn wind.
We
scatter our light in suitcases
For our
neighbours to see and wonder,
To
investigate whether these things fit,
And
check if we were ever really here.
Travelling
lightly, the velvet tulips breathe,
Not
knowing where our wanderlust shall go.
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