Sitting on the top deck,
I watch the swirling lights,
shine brightly on the rain
lashed paines, late at night.
Staring into passing windows,
some dim, some bright.
I see, reflecting stores,
of different life's, different times.
The shapes echos tories
of what lies beyound,
each one different to behold.
Some warm, inviting.
others harshand cold.
Their differences intrigue me.
I paint a picture in my head,
using blocks of colours,
Some blue, some green some red.
Each one hidden
and out of sight,
Their secrets held,
within the mystery of the night.
Elaine Battersby
(Elaine B)
march 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem