Wife {Original Poem}
*This is a repost. Please do not vote.
Wife
The train you are on is still
but others pass by
endlessly
and disguise your inertia
with illusory motion.
Sometimes
the front carriage decouples
and flies after passing action
pulling alongside and blasting its horn.
Yet curiously
it returns
pulled back by the irresistible
the magnetic force of perceived liberty
to return to stagnancy
and the subtle cage of freedom.
How would you feel
should your front chase acuity
then surge forwards
to silently jump tracks
and link with another in perpetual motion?
Will you sit and watch your reflected tears
rolling
like raindrops
down the cold
still glass
as a faint horn sounds
far far away in the distance?