Last Train

Last Train
The beautiful countryside of my childhood
emerged vividly in my mind
as I waited for the last train back to the city.
The rolling fields and storm clouds in my memory’s past
Mingled with the scent of my mother’s perfume,
tentatively splashed on my wrist
as I went through her things today.
She should have been with us eternally
But she faded gradually into those clouds
And we are left with bottled memories.
“Cabochard”, I relearned the word,
Reclaiming her perfume’s name,
Restoring the past’s shaky grounds,
Returning to a semblance of newness.
I cried at the train ‘oh please don’t come’
longing only for the darkness to engulf me,
to cradle me deep within its velvet softness.
A low, sustained whistle and flashing lights
were the train’s answer to my plea as it approached.
I could not stand still any longer,
Ready or not, I was moving on. 


Collaborative Twitter Poem By @jdubqca @afcoory @MyVogonPoetry @vivchook @Brudberg @Permabloom

Photo courtesy of @Lynsm7

  1. cliff said:

    ANNE, A wonderful soft and heartfelt poem, . . it’s truly a beauty to have shared. Thanks, Cliff Howard Australia Twitter – @ducttape12 _____


  2. frandi said:

    Thanks Cliff, glad you liked it – following you on Twitter


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: