Gare du Nord

x mas (5)

Heels pounding cement, arms
outstretched separating crowds.
Racing to board the train from
Paris to the country.

Running down the aisle we dive
into a vacant sleeper car and pull
the door closed, collapse into seats
laughing and gasping for breath.
We’ve made it again, barely.

The train swooshes over rails as
it departs the station.
I see only blurred trails of passengers
as they scurry to designated departures.
Once there they wait impatiently for
their trains, repetitiously scanning watch faces.

Paris flashes by, her beauty immortalized,
she never disappoints.
My nose pressed to the window, hot breath
steams the glass.

I wipe vapor and gasp at the beauty of quaint
villages, church spires, and mile after of
mile of gold: fields of golden sunflowers
nodding in the sun as we sail by, soon
replaced by vast fields of Lavender.
I smile at my rich discovery outside the
city boulevards.

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