Written using the prompt ‘A Room with a View’
AND from the deepest tunnel: a view,
Like Turner’s sky. Flushed and washed,
In dying shades. I felt fiery to the point,
Of fading away. But the train,
It journeyed South,
Those waterways, they took to life in orange,
And I found it hard in every form of umber,
I could find,
But I loved it all upon that bridge,
And the train, it took me South,
In quietness. The lull of carriage wheels,
Struck something strange and dead,
A nothingness,
So still it moved the tendons,
Of my frame,
‘Till I forgot that rivers could be blue,
That people could be lost within their flow,
Like Dido,
I found something in old flames,
That made me choke,
And cut the cityscapes that came,
As sacrilege. Fresh and new,
In emptiness,
Charred by memory. God- the heaviness,
Of a world once set alight.
***
From the apartment block: a view,
Of railways crossing evening lands,
In silence. Watchers leaning fast,
From windows, keen to spot the trains,
That journey North.
Ekphrasis on,
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