Station To Station

Wounded gravels shudder
beneath ruthless tracks.

There must be a wind that will hear my call
but my heart's stillness tells me there is none.

Beneath the leaves my aches unfold;
how can I protect myself from goodbyes?

The horizon is a haze of oblivion if I stare too long...
Nature's plot of beauty fails to soothe my cries

The turmeric sun, the healing meadows
are the balm...I know

But when the branding irons of railway lines
pull you away from me,

my pain exhales into the skies
my silence shudders with the gravels.

Station to station the pink sunsets stretch
Station to station
My farewell echoes in golden memories.
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