Image by Lavinia Bodea
Looking down the sun catches my eye reflecting from the rail track.
I am whisked back to a time in the not so distant past.
We are here again on this soulless journey, our only comfort this small box in our hand.
Reflection , what was it all for.
Months and years of imprisonment .
Fed with lies and fear.
Many lives , hopes , dreams extinguished just like throwing paper on a fire.
So much lost.
Now like many I dare to imagine the future for it could just vanish like steam from a kettle.
How precious is this fragile existence we have.
No lessons prepared us.
My mind drifts again .
Why, don't I know the name of the small stones on the track.
My train arrives
Reality now, today,
Back to the grind.
1
Share
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.