Slow Train

The rare luxury of ‘me’ time gives me time to reflect.
No responsibilities; the chance just to be.
Getting into the meditative rhythm of train on track
as we dash through the British countryside.
Back to nature through rain-streaked glass
at two hundred miles an hour.
Maybe not.
It’s the slow train.
Twenty-two stops between me and my destination:
An – on Sea, – by Sea, south coast extravaganza.
One hour, forty-six minutes of nought but letting my mind run free.
There are no station changes to distract from my thoughts,
but they take me to changes to the track of my stationary existence.
I’m a free spirit, a transient soul.
I drift from one life to the next as I evolve into .. who?
It’s what I’ve always done.
Perhaps it’s what I’ll always do.
I don’t want this train ride to end.

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