Leaving Seville


The poet acts

And the train leaving Seville

Just arrived. Behind all.

Headphones in the Alameda.

Chessy lines to end – but do you, like me,

cry? Yes I cried.

The train inches. Too late.

The poet hasn’t acted.

Onwards. Driving. Behind all.

Shrunk now into arriving, leaving,

Meeting, parting.

Behind all.

Bid on, my friend, bid on and wave;

You’ll glance back and expect me too;

To give you hallowed nod.

#Poetry #Spain #Seville #Summer #Poet