Train

Rails clack and clatter
as we roll round the back of houses
(each garden accidentally revealing it’s owner)
drawing out into the un-urban

English green fields, scruffy stations
and level-crossings blur past
yet the horizon crawls

All personal sense of hurry lulled
a bubble of contemplation forms
distantly observing  passing scenery
my mind drifts to places past
and places future

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

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