How does no one else on this train
notice the sunset?

Distant sighs of cloud are
ignited by orange and pink
reflections of descent,
framed in those purple coughs,
loosely spherical and stretching
across the rest of the sky.

A beautiful window of deep scarlet
lays horizontal below
the ignited sighs, below
the loosely spherical coughs.
The scarlet window is the bated breath
ready for dusk to give way to darkness,
and it's only visible when the
vegetation-silhouettes prostrate themselves
to allow precious glimpses,
as the day happily bleeds out,
draining colour steadily down
behind the horizon,
which loses its definition to
different shades of blackness.

Written 29/10/12 on the train from London to Edinburgh.


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