Playing with Jane: arrival at the train station.
That night, Jane arrived at the train station on the wheels of a night train.
The chemical scent of spring was in the air, of plants communicating with one another in a language inaudible to human hearing, just like the dead do.
A gentle breeze rocked the branches of young trees, and made them sway like the hips of a woman, dancing.
Distant stars shone with their pale, yet twinkling April light, much like eyes in love, and the only sound to be heard was the distinctive song of the whip-poor-will.
Welcome home, Jane, welcome home..!
No comments:
Post a Comment