It's Still Life

The Derelict Line to Turners Hill

My feet have come to rest here,
at the end of this dim lit lane, where

fallen leaves, gold and red and brown,
rain down like regal crowns,

and however soft I tread
upon this hardened path, I stop

and look and listen for the 8:04,
a train from a sky faded world,

that’s not passed this way
for nearly 20-years or more.

For Unicorn Challenge 29.09.23. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023. Featured image is AI artwork.