Writing on the corners of napkins,
Just small ideas,
Erupting mind,
Words begin to unwind.
A dark track
And full flooding clouds,
Disturbance -tapped shoulder
The guard's ticket check.
Swiftly sweep the trees; they pass,
Smudges of emerald greens
Mixed with feasting cows, then
My full rubbish bag-
It hangs by the window;
The squashing vanilla yoghurt,
The plain crisps, and then
The cornish fudge.
Home will come soon,
A few hours,
Passed another place,
Unfamiliar.
Thoughts join,
Pieces fall free,
Mind's been broken,
The window fully open.
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1 comment:
great work! everybody can associate to this, and the contradiction gives a beautiful irony that adds to the imagery of a rapidly changing journey. cant wait to read more like it :D
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