The window’s fogged. Outside, torrential rain.
I know the streets we cross, have seen the cat
that’s lying, staring from a fourth-floor flat
bay window as we pass. The slowing train

bounces on points. And I get down my case,
but don’t move to the door. Let others crowd
and shove. I’m not that eager. It’s allowed
to take one’s time, do things at their own pace.

Love fetched me to her city long ago.
I left but every ticket’s a return
And here I am again. Perhaps I’ll earn
release this time. More probably will go

confused down dark streets, hopeless in love’s maze
of frenzied nights, and empty long sad days.

About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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3 Responses to

  1. thedorkygirl says:

    Thanks for writing and sharing! As always, I really enjoyed reading this 🙂

  2. i_kender says:

    I like this. Feels very personal.

  3. anef says:

    The third stanza reminds me of Beatles songs.

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