Muse |
Muse |
The rain drops, streaming across the window Like stars shots, running across the night's sky; They sparkle on their sides and Dance against the black backdrop, A deep navy canvas that reflects Travelling faces. Through the window, amber lights shine And passing fairies glitter their way As the festive hearts of travellers Flitter at the thought of coming home For that family Christmas, Or altogether fast to a lonely room. A perpetual exhale of exertion Accompanies quiet conversation and Dulls the station call To the blue-lit eyes that consume; Those stimulated moons that Cut down the social to the subdued. Dinner tables fold out for work Or as an extra hand for a can of Carling, Keeping it cool for the night out on the town Or to hold forever for a friend. Crumbs from a late supper decorate the seats, Encrusting its fibres with a crunch. Closed in shut on a cold day, The air conditions exude human odour; The doors revolve as travellers go their natural course, With a burst of rich diets following, Wafting its way through the passengers; Some wrinkling, others staying plain. Stacking the shelves with memories, Overhead and hoarded, No space for bicycles that offer a greener step. The oiled engine rumbles far from electric energy With the hybrid only a puffed idea On this excursion. Tired heads bob along to the rhythm of the Track clacking its tacky tune; A tinny beat that sways its way home. Numb minds and silence Are more than the merrier here; Rain away and wash out the gloom. Copyright © 2019
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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