Last Train Out
We waited in silence, impatient
passengers for the late train.
Goodbye stood, shifting
foot to foot, baggage in hand
between us.
He turned his brim down
over his eyes, curled it
the way the calla lily hides
in an August storm. Clouds
rumbled down the track.
We boarded, separate, overwhelmed
by the silence of this parting rush.
It raised my hair and kissed my nape.
That always was the most tender of spots.
Poetry
I guess the blog being down was a termporary thing. I made it and I'm leaving a comment to let you know. Good poem, btw.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ms V, I think this is one of the few I don't hate much. . .
ReplyDeleteAnother lovely piece. Thoughts finely tuned, words well turned.
ReplyDeleteThanks, too, for your comments on my blog...