They whizz past fast
Buildings white and blue
Trees and fields of green
All fleet past you
Through the bars on the window
You see the world pass by
Winds blowing your hairs unruly
As if you've gotten wings to fly
The screech of metal striking
The smell of friction on the track
The blur of life around
And trains running forth and back
A train gallops on
From station to station
Taking millions of people everyday
To their own destination
YOU ARE READING
MUSINGS OF A SOLIVAGANT
PoesíaJust like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her. Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
