
      The
Writer's Voice
      The World's Favourite Literary Website
      
      Last
      Train
      
      
      
      By
      Rusty
      Broadspear
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      

      I hold her gently while she sleeps,
      
Head on my breast, I read her dreams.
      
And while she dreams and softly weeps
      
I drink potent tears from heavenly streams.
      
      
      
Her beauty silently fills the room
      
As fingers of sunlight dispel the night.
      
Our warmth and closeness so eloquent,
      
Delicate, insubstantial, and so slight.
      
      
      
Waiting for the last train together,
      
No words spared and all thoughts shared.
      
So deeply entwined, lovingly resigned,
      
She snuggles closer – we’re well prepared.
      
      
      
We know we’re blessed with good fortune
      
Having taken together the ride of life.
      
Now Angels are waiting with our memories,
      
To take myself and my darling wife.
      
      
      
So, so, desperately sad, that the Angels took Helen,
      
Left me crying to sleep, hugging her sweet perfume.
      
Eighteen long months, thriving, surviving –
      
To awaken tonight, to an Angel in my room.
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      

      
      
Critique this work
      
      
      Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
