MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

Tag: journey

Windows/Rain

When I was a nipper
I used to love to watch the rain
rip across, along
the car window as we blasted
up the M1 towards Doncaster,
endless rivulets and patterns
dancing, swinging with the lull
of brake and acceleration,
countryside dark, barn shapes, bales
street lamps deep orange
in those days, something poignant
between the in and the out,
Beatrix Potter scratchy on cassette,
heater cooking velcro shoes,
and out there, the night
always magical, darkness,
the universe mirrored
in every glittered drop,
no want, nor need
to catch the feeling
in a net of words
or analysis,
t’was merely life
being lived
one breath
to the next.

Night Riviera Sleeper

Five o’clock, the train slides past me endless, oiled and black like the thoughts of a leech

I re-adjust in my seat to try and get some sleep, it’s Christmas eve.