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Travel Nocturn


In my place
between wake and slumber
exists a platform,
a waiting spot
for the dream train.

Weathered wood planks
roughened by time and elements
joined by rust crusted
square spikes.
Wind whispering, stars shining,
no covering in sight.
Ancient iron tracks
stretch from horizon to beyond
beckoning the dream train.

On a night
my mind’s self
reposes there,
labors, worries, and joys
jumbled in thought
until
I board the dream train.

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