Sunday, April 26, 2015


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. the gentle sway of a train carriage...


  1. Lovely write, sweet and soft. -E

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  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! ♥

  10. Lovely read and haunting images....

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


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