Through Clinchburg Station

 

The way I step on trains that plan to move
too quickly for my heart to gain a step
or steady as the barrels of wheels begin
the long and twisted path to where they end

 

How lost I am in whitely passing clouds
that gain in speed till all becomes a blur
till my eyes move like windmills at the view
through brightness and the walls of broken sun

 

Until the whistle changes to a toll
and all the branches point back to my town
where one small simple platform comes in view
and I once more am stranded here with you

Reviews

[Donald Meikle]

A window seat on a train of thought.
As Ed said, true Phibbyness!
And yes I enjoyed the ride.

[Ken Simm.]

Wonderful use of metaphor here Phibby. Used as really only you can to communicate so subtly and yet so well.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

How lost I am in whitely passing clouds
that gain in speed till all becomes a blur
till my eyes move like windmills at the view
through brightness and the walls of broken sun

When waiting on love to return time does seem to lose meaning and everything around us becomes void of meaning.
Your expression of emotions is spectacular.

[Ed Hart]

there are train rides, and there are train rides...sometimes our beating heart rides the rhythm of the wheels, pushing faster and faster...and sometimes we ride the brakes all the way...wonderful phibbyness

[C.T. Bailey]

Phibby, the writing is spectacular and I wouldn't expect any less from you. What is most notable to me is the planned rhythm in the piece. The lack of punctuation and pace of the writing takes the reader 'down the track' and provides the same feel as setting in the coach car watching the world fly by. Just a brilliant piece of expressive art that is near stream of consciousness. Perfect Phibbiness. Love it.

[W.k.kortas]

Winsome and charming, and what can be better than to be left in a one-whistlestop town with the right you?