Travelling Thoughts.

Golden shafts break through slate skies. The earth’s tears, left to dry on tiled roofs, glisten in the light. A hint of sun in a grey day. A hint of hope in a sorrowful soul.

Metal and brick, aerials and chimneys rise above a sea of houses like weeds thrusting their way through well-tended turf. Like painful thoughts piercing a well guarded mind.

The train sways. The cityscape rushes past. A journey continues regardless.

A smile; a frown; a question mark; a choice. Let the sun illuminate; the mind ruminate. See weeds as life – persistent and strong. Or unruly vines to cloak your desires, to choke your carefully cultivated camouflage.

Golden shafts fighting slate skies, backed by the force of a burning sun. 


Who wins?