Poetry by Aline Page

WORD CHAIN TRAIN by ALINE PAGE

Roughness of apple bark presses into knees,

Clinging, swinging, swaying,

Right hand clasped to overhead branch.

Listening, intensely,

Spreading awareness across flat fields,

Stretching, elongating

Towards a thin blue-grey line.

Out of this horizon appears,

From the tunnelling smudge,

On the far right,

A small train, rhythmically clinking,

Chain-linking four Prussian blue carriages,

Increasing in volume, nearing,

Reverberating across the vast plain,

Being loudest at its mid-point.

Triggering in my clacking brain

A word train;

Four add-on words join,

Pulled by a thought engine,

Emerging, superimposed, 

Settling into the scene,

As the train’s echoes fade

To the misty vanishing point of infinity.

(Five-year-old’s  memory)