See my spiral for how she rendered it
Ya. Lean upon the porch rail as night's dense
Black--does it twinkle with ah, stars? nor hail
The mirk none pass through, just my brother. Pale
As Au Revoir where all else sleep from hence,
Lo, how--what ist? Hark! For the train calls thence,
Its whistle breaking this cold silence' tale,
And think now, of how I'll lose all ist? frail
Against the metal lacework, sans defense.
Turn back indoors to clean the mess we'd stir
In babysitting. Wooden tracks a crew
Of Brio traincars clattered oer in tour
Half like what deeply rumbles past, aye to
A fault, my brother saying "a real train--" Were
I numb too long oer Mum? Or swear I knew?
Here I am, off on a trip,
Do I travel on an new airship?
Or do a take a train, not so hip?
Or do I drive my vintage car?
Or is this trip too far?
No, like Icarus the star,
I'll grow wings, better than the car,
So, no automobiles, planes or trains,
No bus, but my wings, that's plain!
Stepping with strides that will soon
fade like passing tumbleweeds and
trains long passed,
is the person unknown who travels
yonder their familiar blanket of sky.
Searching for what you'd assume
are answers to unresolved
questions, they find confidence
in treading uncertain new grounds;
gaining reasons to love and love stronger.
Ever the rolling stone shuffling to
avoid a life that goes south, so that
an end is met with fulfilment when
body and soul head upwards and north,
long after the telling of the last
I, the person you have yet to meet.
Who roams for to settle one day in
knows such innate yearnings of the
heart and mind that others have
not the ties to satisfy.
Pods routed back and forth
Cells linked to the central nervous system
The cry of a sapling
Lush, primal sounds
But deaf to the neighbours
All distracted by a stream
But not all pass the finish line
The end of the line:
Three modes activated
Upon the opening of pod doors
A song from yesterday
The flower withers
Pulp for pennies
The flower withers
Only so much could be done
Outside the system
I was captivated,
Mesmerized by her beauty on this Bronx bound 5 train.
I drowned in her green eyes and did not care to breathe.
Her dirty blonde, bordering brunette hair waved perfectly.
Everything about her was beautiful.
To say I was nervous would be an understatement.
I didn't dare to tell her how radiant she looked.
Another missed connection on a subway line heading uptown.
Hopefully I will see her at Wall Street again.
It isn't likely, but I would like to redeem myself.
Or at least say , "Good morning."
I am always here and never there,
So tired of the day to day.
I keep waiting for the moment we can jump on a train,
Like the ones I hear calling from my bedroom window.
I like to imagine they are going to far off distant lands,
But I doubt they'll go past Cincinnati.
I keep trying to make something beautiful out of something ugly
And I guess there's some sort of metaphor there.
Well when the train finally blows the whistle,
Tell me who still cares.
as Lydia and Benny
walked in and sat
on one of the seats
on the platform
where a big black
was about to go off
grey and white steam
shushed from beneath
and from on top
of the engine
Benny was fascinated
by steam engines
he loved to watch
the power and sound
and smell of them
were on her home
and her parents rowing
and her big sister
after a boozy night
(as her mother
and her father
coming home drunk
in the Square
so all could hear him
the train steamed off
slow at first
then fast and faster
and a loud whistle
and it was off
Benny watched it go
and Lydia turned her head
and watched it too
do you think
my parents' rowing
will end by the time
I get home?
usually short lived
they'll be all lovely dovey
by the time you get home
she wasn't so sure
they were going at it
hammer and tongs
when she left
and she didn't say
where she was going
and she supposed
she'd get a telling off
for that too
let's get 2 glasses
of milk and biscuits
from the station cafe
she looked worried
race you to the cafe
she looked at him
they will have stopped
by the time I'm home
I don't like it
when they row
all will be fine
when we get back
she nodded her head
and they walked
to the cafe
on the station
and went in
the place was quiet packed
but Benny told her
to get table and sit down
and he'd get the stuff
so she sat at a table
by the window
and Benny queued up
behind a man
in a stripe black and white suit
who smelt of tobacco
her mum and dad
going at each other
her mother throwing
cups and saucers
and her dad trying
to get a word in sidewards
and her sister Gloria
snoozing in it all
smelling of booze
and a good night out
she looked over at Benny
in the queue
hands in his trouser pockets
head to one side
looking at the labels
in the glass window
of a cabinet
deciding which to buy
and she looking
all silent and shy.
A faint train blows
Sliding along the Earth's shore
Your pillow rustles against your head
The noise competes
With that distant blurrly breath
Because just when you lay still
And leak into slumber
You'll forget its existence
You'll hear the faint train blow
You'll remember then
We rode the train across the country- just your hand in mine.
We drank coffee and fell asleep on shoulders- uncomfortably comfortable.
We watched the sunsets through glass windows huddled up together under blankets.
We read books and quietly fell in love with fictional characters who reminded us of better versions of us.
We smiled a lot and slept so little because for once our reality was better than our dreams.
"Through thick and thin." You said as we passed by the great Rocky Mountains.
"Forever and always." I said as we kissed at the station in New York.