Sunday, April 26, 2015

Station


You sprint down
the platform at Piccadilly.
The first time I see you run.
Boyish.  Easy.

Sun pales gray
through the train shed roof,
as if we are lit for a morning set.
I wait for someone to shout "Cut!"

The doors close.
We're late.  The attendant frowns. 
Next train leaves at 11:11.
I don't mind.  It's lucky.

The carriage is warm.  It sways.
You explain why bricks change to stone
in the crosshatch of hedgerows
and sundry farms.

I find a station in your arms.
Stillness in your eyes.
Think how indecently happy,
should I suddenly die.


tk/April 2015


Lovely read by R.A.D. ...like the gentle sway of a train carriage...




17 comments:

  1. Lovely write, sweet and soft. -E

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  2. Love this, Tess, and the last stanza was heart-warming.

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  3. I find a station in your arms."...wonderful statement!

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  4. And that will teach you to career about the countryside in a gun- carriage !

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  5. That last quatrain, startling, beautiful...

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  6. Station in your arms....end of the line...like it.

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  7. The station in your arms.. what a wonderful line.. sigh

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  8. I had a little warm sway going as I was reading this! Just the ticket!

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    1. Now I can't think of anything to write your comment blanked me. Lmao! Just got done with mine Helena enjoy your week.

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  9. Wonderful mawkish! Lol! It doesn't take much and when it happens grab it for all it's worth. What a lovely pair. I love the station line too and more Tess well done! As far as 11:11 it's very lucky! I see 11's or combos of 1 everywhere but can't win the lottery for nothing! Lol! Enjoy your week and thanks for the prompt! ♥

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  10. Lovely read and haunting images....

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  11. This helped me relive those moments, when I fell in love. Love and warmth exude from every word of this verse. Beautifully penned!

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Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)