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,
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


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Anonymous Poet said...

Surreal. Dreamy.

Igorevich said...

Anna, I have a few moments to spare so I'm reading your archives. Platform 3 is very, very good.

"my stare caressed a clock obsessing
over sunsets"


I hope you have more to post. Ivan

Anna Piutti said...

thank you so much for your kind comment, and for taking the time to browse my archives. I really wish I had more time to read, and especially, to write. Hopefully soon enough.

It's ironic how many people, though they haven't commented here, have told me how much they've enjoyed this poem. It's ironic because I never thought of it as one of my better ones. Oftentimes, I find myself in the exact opposite situation.