Thoughts by an Open Window

Thoughts by an Open Window

In late night,
Distortion of
Running engines
Reverberate.

They echo across
A sleepy and quiet
Town’s slopes and
Flats of land.

I sit here listening
To a whistle
From a train miles
Away.

Blinds are drawn
If only to see
The twinkling stars
Between patchy clouds.

A cool breeze sneaks
Into the room. It is
Quiet. Quiet apart from
The whispering train whistle.

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