Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Train

The train's pulled out and here I stand,
a stranger in this lonely land.

Though I have been alone before,
this loneliness is so much more.

Memories juggle within my brain,
trying to keep my conscience sane.

People push and pass by me;
I hide my tear-stained face and flee.

Both spirit and money tend to be low;
what good is direction when there's no place to go.

Poem by LSB (PoetryWings)

4 comments:

  1. Sorry you left Twitter, but I look forward to reading more of your poetry on here. Cheers! Jim ツ

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  2. Jim,thank you for dropping by! Twitter was just too much to keep up with; blogging may help me write more frequently. I welcome any constructive suggestions.

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  3. Very beautiful and haunting writing. Descriptive as well--I can hear the train's whistle as it pulls out and can feel the shoves of the people passing by. Well done. Keep writing!

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  4. Me, thank you for your comments. Glad you could embrace the feeling.

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