Tuesday 03 April 2012

the train pulls around a curve

parked cars on one side

“the island” on the other

set apart from the real world

evening primrose and ragged robin

take hold of the apex

and on the eastern side

where the sun rises

“the trains go to bed”

we never deviate

from our prescribed route

we only glimpse the track

that leads to Strawberry Hill

with promises of fruit-filled days

in pastoral peace

our way is more mundane

with gabions enforcing boundaries

impelling all to stay on track

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