Gently closing, almost-sleeping,
Form outside: hurtling
Inside: breathing slow
A landscape scurries past
The distance lazy, foreground hazy,
Barely a whisper of light on the horizon -
Casting pink shadows on low clouds.
Those around are tired (like me)
But they have company to keep their eyes open
I myself am alone, though I sit by a stranger
I don't know their reasons
I know my own, I think,
I want a future, and for me, that future is far away
It is beyond the hills I can see
But not so far to be unreachable
So I sit and let myself be carried
Away.