Sitting here
On the night train,
Rushing and hushing through the dark,
And leaving you behind.
Raindrops, like tribal markings,
Obscure my view
Upon the dark glass on which I sigh.
An apricot dawn breaks and
Embraces the horizon.
You lied
When you said I was your beginning
And your ending.
I made you the owner of my heart
As you held my hand in yours.
But time spelt out the truth
And you were careless with my gift;
My love.
The sun rises, bringing clarity
To sight and thoughts.
Gazing at the passing trees, with leaves
Waving like Tibetan prayer flags,
I understand.
I only leant you my heart,
It’s not yours to keep.
Angela Barton
