A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
The I In It
The 11:31 Train to London
She laughs
and sends
sunlight into every passenger’s heart
on this train heading for London Bridge,
its whistle
blowing
like a gale at every crossing,
and there’s rain again, thatching,
etching
windows,
and she laughs once more, it warms
the fabric of wintery summer mornings,
she wears
wealth, stealth,
with her soft scarlet lips, and there
are days when low hills hold me
that I’d
gladly
run away with laughter like that and
I’d leave my distant silence behind.
Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.
It's Still Life 
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