Thompson Emate Poet Verse

About the Last Train

You close the door changing tides,
The streets empty into you,
Twilight harbingers tranquil,
Good night soon becomes the word,
From the lips of friends and foes.
You convey the departed,
To a place beyond the stars.


October 18, 2025.
Nette Onclaud,
In Honour Of An Ode Poetry Contest.

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Jeanette Swan October 24, 2025 at 10:41 PM This is so true: 'changing tides'. I used to live in a city where only one plane would land at a time, (Hobart, Tasmania). This is exactly how it felt: the quiet hush until the hugs and reunions of greetings; and then the return of the hush as all departed, even more poignant when at dusk as the stars emerge. Thompson Emate October 25, 2025 at 2:50 AM It's reflective.