Pulling Out
The train left the platform amid trails of smoke
That blew across faces
Waving away worn smiles.
The grey sky leaned into the horizon
Forming a broken arc,
Rain moved into chains of grief
From the departure.
A wind stole the voices
Leaving the sad opening,
Moving the sound away from this cold space
That no-one would see again.
An emptiness filled the station
As they left, scuttling like
Hermit crabs searching for new homes.
20.01.19
Copyright © Suzanne Jones | Year Posted 2020
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