Through The Doors Of A Running Train

Through The Doors Of A Running Train short poem

Photo by stwn

What is seen cannot be told,
This beautiful moment cannot be put on hold,
The beauty of silhouttes when the sun goes down,
The moon soars up and the wolf in me starts to moan.
The sky is studded with stars, with only one shining the brightest,
Of all choices of my eccentricity, this journey will be my best.
What my eyes captured my camera could not,
What my heart felt my mind forgot,
it was more beautiful than any lass
Like the breeze carrying the smell of fresh grass.
Tiny drops of water crashing on my face as it starts to rain.
All of this, while I stand at the doors of a running train.

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Eccentric person!! I like to explore different shades of my character.i enjoy humor.i am that kind of a person who believes journey is the destination.
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