"Going Places" by Sierra July, Frequent Contributor

Going Places

Sierra July

Parting ways at the station,

My hand presses the window

Yours mimics mine and my mind

Finds your body heat though glass

As our hands melt into one

My vision mists and I see

Nothing more as the train pulls

Me away with a whistle

And I know I won't see you

Again for ages . . . ages

Poet's Notes:  Having gone to a university a couple hours from home, I can recall the feeling of the car ride putting distance between me and my loved ones. I went for a train instead of a car in this poem to give the distance a more it's-out-of-our-control feel. I thought of personifying the train a bit more, but left it simply "pulling" the two apart.