Slip, Sliding Away…

The last train


Through deserted yard

Pass metal fence…

That naked lazy bank

And on

Towards satellite posts

Then, the flatlands

This snake will blink

And wink

At ditch and tree

Into the last hour

Of a vexed day

In the quietness of a carriage

A man rests his head

Against a moving pane

Another dying day

Weighs heavy

Against the almost silent

Ticking watch

Slip, sliding away…to dream


Thatcher Doran

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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