Sunday, July 03, 2005

Platform 3


I ran my fingers across dry skin and
heavy lids;
my stare caressed a clock obsessing
over sunsets.

I swallowed dreams
and vivid hopes;
I cursed,
beforetime,
their lingering aftertaste.

And alone I stood on
grainy asphalt,
not too far from the
yellow life line,

waiting for the next train.


Copyright © 2005 Anna Piutti

French version