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travel

travel

By Soledad A KelloggPublished 3 years ago 1 min read

It's 7:26 in the evening

Stand lamp like a star

The train sobbed and the rain poured down

The man by the window

Through morning and dusk, give this journey a

A light, hazy kiss

Books of flying poetry spread lightly on the little table

Your pure white hands touch the night inside the car

It was rustling and turning

I'm on the paper

The story of this time, mottled

Someone is listening, someone is talking

The journey of the bird is the sky, the journey of the fish is the river

The journey of the heart is the grassland at the foot of a wild horse

The journey of a train is not through the city

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Soledad A Kellogg

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