Friday Night Train Station
A free verse Sonnet
Tracks spark like flint; the rats scurry below.
The din of wheels and wind,
Rushes through the tunnel.
I stand at its entrance;
Gaze at the inebriates; the disenchanted…
It is Friday night; the traumas of the day,
Are lost in the revelry of the bottle,
Emptying itself, down many a weary throat.
The train screeches to a halt;
The Libran pendulum swings;
A packed crowd pushes out; another forces in.
“Mind the gap!” Shouts the signalman.
The train takes off;
I hear the noisy wheels, rumbling in the distance.
Manatita, The Lantern Carrier. Copyrighted, June 13th, 2017.
~Awakening The Inner Light ~