The sound reaches me before I can even see the light on the front of the train. The click clack sound of the wheels as the move along the tracks reminds my of a crows laugh. The train passes along the curve, sliding through the dark like an anaconda wrapped in velvet.
The wind whips up behind me, colder than a summer night has any right to be. The long note of the train whistle clashes with the silence all around me. I want to drop to my knees and weep, here now where no one will see me, where I won’t have to speak of dust or a harsh wind.
You made me promise not to watch the train as it left the station, but you couldn’t keep me from here by the bridge where I first met the girl with jade eyes and honey hair.
The great steel snake passes me by less than a hands breadth. I feel as if the air rushes out of my lungs, caught in that vipers wake. Stealing all the words I could have said, all the things I should have told you.
The whistle and the wheels recede as the darkness moves in; and here I am, alone