Richard Provencher

To Montreal

Winding wheels whistle
across steel, coaches shaking,
in interruptions of rest, on

and on they rumble,
a repetitious journey across
miles of pasture
trees sharing their silhouettes.

Conversations pant through
corridors, jokes lost in the melee
an attendant repeating:
"Montreal - - quinze minutes, "
her French accent
like an historic banner -

crossing twilight's barrier
is faceless, except
for the highway, cars
flash-lighting darkness
as we continue life's journey.

Submitted: Thursday, August 14, 2014

Topic of this poem: train

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The trip from Truro, Nova Scotia is a long journey into the night. And riding alongside highways highlights the landscape outside, while inside conversations and new friendships are established. This is a poem of such a journey.

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