Dripping Diesel

as a child
there is a memory
alas now fading
a smell
on a cold December morning
warm grease
dripping diesel
forming pools
in a sort of blue
forever lingering
rows of carriages
under cast iron
green and edged
in gold
men in dark blue uniforms
with starch white shirts
train tracks
bright and shiny
but only on the top
newspapers folded
nesting under armpits
a seven year old still stands
on the platform

By Paolo Michell

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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