Here's the situation. A train arrives at the platform to take people to their stations, where they station themselves at their desks in hopes of compensation. "Why do we do this to ourselves?" Each asked themselves in mutual adulation, knowing that in the end tokens for their time will be rewarded to them for pleasant jubilations. Or so they thought. "Times are tough." One frowned to another while the train pulled into the station; another nodded in agreement, with a sigh and a huff of mutual frustration. "At least the sun is out." Someone interjected as they stepped onto the train with seats as blue as the sky they walked away from.
About the Creator
James Green
Weaving words into captivating worlds, this author's storytelling will transport you to realms of imagination and leave you breathless.
Profiles and content: https://linktr.ee/gr33ngr33n
Keep reading
More stories from James Green and writers in Poets and other communities.
MORE WINE!
From the forecourt to the tennis court, how many miles must he splash until he wishes for his law court, to end? Days? Maybe weeks? But who can tell when foes are bound to stifle whatever truths are bound to peak. To the drinking den where voices sound like hens, beckoning for worries to end; fend off those foes whose lies and deceit wish for your happiness to end. "More wine!" For what is presence but a stifle to one's peace of mind. "More wine!" Red, lushness, deep, like cheeks on the faces of those who sing, "More wine!" To court! Whatever filly comes my way. "More wine!"
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
Comments