morning train

so worn, so meaningful

been a while since i’ve taken a red-eye

then the early train

feeling winter through the sliding doors

a new day

worn seats so full

dark clothes

tired faces, worn shoes, worn everything

somehow keep going

i find myself wondering

in spite of my optimism

why?

what’s the point

all this exhaustion?

trying

effort

continuance

but it’s right there

entering the carousel

lives lived hard

doing her best

one more kiss

before parting for separate platforms

i love you, he says

a little too late

but i know she still hears

Improvisation 27, Kandinsky, Garden of Love II