I took in everything I saw
with force, as never to forget
that moment on the platform
in errasing snow: the coats around us,
the red wool of the scarfs
and the damping breath.

Sometimes you know that tragedy
is happening under your eyes.
In dying Winter light, in sounds and movement
of the leaving train it was apparent
that you were on your way,
never returning.

We had not said it
but we felt it just the same.
Already out of touch you said my name,
the sound fell screaming on the rails.
When all was quiet,
the setting sun was burning
and you were gone for ever.

Comments on: "Screaming" (2)

  1. There is clearly something about you and trains, or you and stations πŸ™‚

    This is a terrific poem


    • Thank you very much, I am glad πŸ™‚ I wasn’t aware I wrote about them so often πŸ™‚

      Arohanui xxx

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