The Station

 

The station is lined with strangers 
all clutching their dreams in carefully bagged 
zip locked 
freeze dried
safety netted
compartments
checking their tickets over and over again
in case the destination had decided to change
as the birds perform their winged waltzes overhead 
and the leviathan ships rise and fall 
closer
riding the tides of the wind 
the zephyr 
while the birds drop seeds for her to bless…
@jayetomas2014
 
 
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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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