PROSE POETRY
Echoes of a Passing Train
A Symphony of Momentary Meetings
He stood by the edge of the railway tunnel,
two silvery pieces of rails sailing from light to darkness like streams of moonlight on a starless night,
touching the rails, he tried to feel the sound of the coming train,
the vibration that would signal its approach,
when would the rails tremble beneath his fingertips?
The whistle of the engine pierced through the silence,
a shriek that split the air for a momentary moment,
a red dragon, whistling through the twilight, roared past him,
his face felt a sudden gush of wind, a breath from the dragon’s fiery lungs, He looked up to see hundreds of people perched within those compartments, like birds on a wire,
they were going somewhere, running away, or coming back — who knows?
He waved his hands at those unknown faces framed by the windows,
and another boy waved back, smiling, but just for a second,
before whooshing past, away, away, towards a destination beyond the horizon.
