Commuter trains trickle along tracks,
Coming, going. All across the day.
Wailing... Wailing...
Pushing - passengers gaze in their crush,
Fixed downwards - thoughts diverted.
Pressing... Pressing...
But I feel her, (I still can) lightly,
Beneath the periphery of my mind,
And I am comforted by that.
-October 13,2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not your usual, but I like it! R.