The Last Train

I missed the last train home.

I see nothing but a yellow line

that must never be crossed,

Taunting me.

Laughing at me.

Disturbed by brass against pavement.

A penny for my thoughts isn’t enough.

The streets don’t pay much.

I can no longer feel the neighbours.

Seen things you couldn't make up

But now I see yellow.

The yellow.

Like the colour of the past.

The flowers in the garden

That stared into the sun.

The happy flowers,

I used to help mother water.

The yellow is as red as a stoplight

That killed her.

Now I understand.

How easy it is to confuse.

The yellow is the brighest green.

And I must go.

The floor is shaking.

I hear the last train home.

Now is the time.