Hustle bustle,
Push and shove
Dashing footsteps
That don't make a sound.
"I've gotta catch the train!"
A small voice shouts.
Thin wisps of wind
Are carried on the backs of leaves.
The dank subway station
Where souls go to thrive
"Are you going to the party?"
A young man asks
As he pushes himself
Between two young women.
"I've just departed
From Germany
And I need a ticket."
One approaches a piece of shadow
Standing behind a splattered glass window.
"I've had an evaluation
My soul is but light snow
Flying through the wind of the trains."
"Ah yes, Ms Shultz,
We have your ticket at hand,
Composed from ages past
You're do at the party
God is awaiting
With aniticipation
Do not grieve
The train on left is expecting."
"Thank you kind sir!"
She called as she hopped onto the train.
And occupied the seat
next to that excited young boy
Who was gazing in wonder
Through the clean glass.
"Tickets, Tickets!"
Announced a leathery voice,
Cloaked in black
With death on his breath,
And woven in his skin.
The woman held out her ticket
As the figure took out a small scythe,
With which he punched a hole
Into the glistening cloth.
A pinprick of light
Pierced the cloth of night.
Birthed form the same moment
Of the ticket being punched
Thousands of souls
Jumped onto a train.
While eager young souls slip out
And dart through the throng
As fast as they can
Too the bright exit.
Smiles as bright as the
Newly punched stars
Splashed across their newborn faces.
A dank building,
Subway trains rushing by.
A great jostle,
Souls trying to catch their train
Before last remnants of time slip by.
Smiles beaming through,
Souls being taken, transported.,
To their eternal destination
Or rather joining the bustling souls
Already arrived at their mortal pit stop.
YOU ARE READING
Meandering Thoughts
شِعرMy very first book of poetry throughout which a handful of thoughts are tossed, and even crafted, onto the page. I'll update regularly. Here's hoping it's a good one.
