Railway Child

if the pathways and parklands of my childhood could talk they would speak of time crawling before it could walk. and when clouds hung like mobiles on strings from the sky I would run with my arms out pretending to fly. I would 'land' near the steep bank that looked down on the track to watch trains pass there daily before then heading back. in that long, lost, hot summer when I never knew time I would scan the horizon through the haze on the line. the dots that grew bigger would soon thunder past - they were moments I lived for that flew by so fast. but as clouds clouded over that magic had gone and as the last train rolled past me I sensed time had moved on.