The trees whizz by us
as we travel along the
cold endless train tracks
We are passengers
on a journey within a
flying metal tin
The way we wonder
at the foreign scenery
yet, long to be home
Poetry | Stories | Photography
The trees whizz by us
as we travel along the
cold endless train tracks
We are passengers
on a journey within a
flying metal tin
The way we wonder
at the foreign scenery
yet, long to be home