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Rated: E · Prose · Travel · #817807
A 'Haibun' written for the Writer's Cramp
Last Train

Train rides lull my mind to sleep. The constant clickety-klackety sound of the wheels upon the cold, straight steel that runs on for miles toward my home.

Hear the droning sound
The vibrations running through
Last train to London

The rain pours forever from a sky that looked to have never seen the sun, never felt the warming rays. The fields soggy and laden with rain even the greens appear grey from shadowed gloom.

Clouded forever
The sky lays heavy upon
Last train to London

Ah, to be home again . . . a dismal welcome to such fondly remembered images from the past. The train sways side-to-side rocking me gently to sleep, to dream of a brightly lit childhood in a land now dark and grey.

Last train to London
Through a tunnel leading home
Candle in the dark

© Copyright 2004 W.D.Wilcox (billywilcox at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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