Wednesday, November 16, 2016

"Going Places" by Sierra July, Frequent Contributor

Going Places
Sierra July

Parting ways at the station,
My hand presses the window
Yours mimics mine and my mind
Finds your body heat though glass
As our hands melt into one
My vision mists and I see
Nothing more as the train pulls
Me away with a whistle
And I know I won't see you
Again for ages . . . ages

Poet's Notes:  Having gone to a university a couple hours from home, I can recall the feeling of the car ride putting distance between me and my loved ones. I went for a train instead of a car in this poem to give the distance a more it's-out-of-our-control feel. I thought of personifying the train a bit more, but left it simply "pulling" the two apart.

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