Without Rhyme Or Reason
The Journey
I always remember that journey,
Not the miles between the beginning,
And the end,
But I remember the leaving,
And the arrival,
The middle ground rushed by,
On endless parallel tracks,
And eyes, wide and innocent,
Darting frequently from window to window,
Glimpsing brief sights of passing blur,
The familiar old, the tried and tested,
Left behind where nostalgia wept,
And the new, daunting yet enticing,
Waited in eager anticipation,
I recall the station,
In busy flashbacks of monochrome,
I recall departure and arrival,
But for the life of me,
I have no recollection,
Of the hours and miles between….
Linda Stuart Harnett ©2009
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The Journey
The Journey
