Of the Station

In the quiet of the night where life has left the open streets for confined homes, my mind dislocates itself with self-inflicted tasks in my solitude. Yet on the hour, this misty mind hears the clear light of the train's whistle. For that moment, I'm once more aware until the train departs with its passengers aboard taking time with it.

Throughout the evening, this drifting recurs until the last train through the station. As it announces its departure, I am taken away to the bizarre realm of my subconscience until the whistle of dawn's train chases me to return to reality.