buildings. tall, new
marvelous and proud but ignorant to their beauty

tracks. old, rusted, worn down with travelers
street art. colorful, incredible, stories in a word

drifting backwards through the city
soft lulls, force you to sway
muffled rumbles, felt under the soles of your feet
inaudible chatter, as people enter and exit
quite men in suits, with smart phones and newspapers
young girls with books and headphones
dark tunnels with green tints

as begin to leave the city
the train becomes more alert. awake, alive
the window's view is in fast forward,
like an old video cassette player
persons eyes cannot focus on the world outside this box
skyscrapers and bustling folks
turn into suburbia apartments and trees fencing them in

the sun seems to get brighter
and nature more humble
more frequent interruptions in the journey
things are slowly becoming familiar
names of places, buildings, homes, scenery
the final halt
everything is comforting and relaxed
**For I am home.