With a breath, and a cautious look,
She climbs aboard with a battered case.
The people push with empty eyes, tired hearts...
Cramped air made from sighs
And lowered looks, from worn, travelled eyes.
She quietly finds a little seat, to stow away
And clutch her case between her knees as the platform pulls away.
The air settles to boredom.
But she turns to the glass, and stares
At moving fields, roads, snaking cars,
And then the sandy stone farmhouses, brimming with warmth.
She turns her eyes away.
The familiar places fall behind and she cries
Quietly in her little seat.
The carriage rocks her gently and sighs in a soothing tone.
The blank faces disappear.
The train speeds on into welcoming night,
And an unknown destination.
