Sunday, February 17, 2008

Vapour

I watched the olde-worldy train pull out
of the weather-beaten station.
Your suitcases and you were on board,
forever departing, and that's how you'll stay.

You left in summer, and the sunshine,
and the green grass and the clean crisp air,
All wanted to leave with you,
and the grime and dust remained.

And so did I.

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