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.
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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.
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She should have been with us eternally
But she faded gradually into those clouds
And we are left with bottled memories.
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“Cabochard”, I relearned the word,
Reclaiming her perfume’s name,
Restoring the past’s shaky grounds,
Returning to a semblance of newness.
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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.
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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. 

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

Photo courtesy of @Lynsm7

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2 comments
  1. cliff said:

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

    Like

  2. frandi said:

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

    Like

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