Night Journey

Moonlight on hidden landscapes,

Dark.

I see stars – points of light

On a thick black blanket.

 

Shimmering out of nowhere,

A table dressed in silverware

Reflecting skies  above.

 

Warmth within.

Watching strange places as they fly by,

And dark, lonely, forgotten parts.

Comfort inside.

 

Lulled slowly to sleep

By twists and creaks and distant horns,

A gentle rumble

Rocks your body and mind

Into a deep slumber

Past any cares

You may have left behind.

 

Written December 4, 2011 on an overnight train trip across the countryside

by Chantal Clarke

 

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