On a platform. The End of Something.

Just a bystander,

an eye-witness, 

a non-participant passer by.

Waiting.

Watching.

Wondering.

Lost love’s last minutes.

We.

Three.

A triangulation in a station.

Station to stationary.

Parallel line paralysis.

A dreary juncture,

cross-country junction.

Years together,

on-course.

Now the

busy,

deserted, drabness,

melt-water, winter

concourse.

Just a bystander,

an innocent 

on-looker.

Passing by.

 

 

 

 

 

.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© swissterrace 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Cheeseby

I read Swiss Terrace’s poem on the front page and decided to look at more. This poem uses imagery that is superlative. Well done writer.

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