Waiting For A Train…

(Been a little inactive this week because of commuting, I’m hoping this will settle down as my final year progresses, but here are some words for you while I wait for my next train.)

Before what spectres do I stand?
The subtle form of decadence,
I glances at nothing, but dead hand
And soulful waters,

Can pasted meaning wait for shores
That track the lines of essence?
But little is felt by such whores
Touch or kiss,

Does their figure demote potential?
Seeing other to form sweet sentence
From longing words as tangential
As your voice,

I miss it now at decaying waking rails,
Was there ever time for relevance?
Waiting for comfort between the hails
Of passing life.

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© Phen Weston 2014

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