Branch Lines

I remember the trip to nowhere,
on the branch line that ran
seemingly aimless into Wales, though
nowhere was a big adventure to
little me, remembering nothing but
going and coming back: perhaps someone
conned a bewitched boy, seeing
at last something of the world.

But the branch lines are long gone,
cauterized like veins in an
excised limb, leaving little
sensation left for boys desperate to
escape dire surroundings,
nowhere now to go but mainlines to the
kind of nowhere where
somewhere seems impossibly far away.

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Comments

  • ladypandorah  On February 7, 2015 at 6:13 pm

    Rather liked this one. Of course, I always like what I read here, but this one stood out for me particularly. When a trip to nowhere becomes your ‘Somewhere’.

    • fridayam  On February 7, 2015 at 7:37 pm

      Why thank you, dear Lady 🙂 How lovely to hear from you. I hope you are well? x

  • ladypandorah  On February 7, 2015 at 11:03 pm

    Been better, to be honest, but always well when reading your words. LP

  • fridayam  On December 14, 2018 at 8:12 pm

    Reblogged this on Fridayam's Blog.

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