A train leaves Detroit at 6:15;
How long does it take
To begin to realize
You’re going the wrong way?
Bridges pass by in blurs
Hazy representations
Lines of forms fragmented,
Faulty transcriptions of the mind.
The whistle blows
As stacks of steam obscure
Innocence stained by dark coal,
And spots on a white sky.
Murmurs fade as darkness falls
And eyes begin to rest
Shadows fade to blackness,
Peace.
At dawn’s light,
Journey’s end
Trails to a stop;
But have you really moved?
A glance takes in the changes,
A rural town for the city
Grass and trees for concrete mountains
Green and yellow for red and gray.
Footsteps seem softer here,
But not quite…
Determination’s lost somehow,
Yet, there is purpose.
Morning is bustling still,
But in a merry sort of way,
Full of light and humor
More greetings than scorn.
It seems a dream in waking,
An impression of a thought
Etched, dyed and pressed
Into your eyes.
Yet, no illusion is present
But the one in your heart,
Bourne of grief and fear
Of woe and past lives.
Past lies entangled
Like lines of crimson peppermint
Bloching the ivory face
Of time.
Moonlit Poetry 