Our journey

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Our Journey

So many obstructions and congestion,
a mirror of the traffic in my mind?
Perhaps my friend is the mirror,
reflecting that same turbulence
in her own narrative.

We travel on the same train,
pausing at different stations,
watching barren landscapes
slide by, to and fro, to and fro.

We know these scenes so well:
dark clouds above old sheds
with corrugated iron roofs
in parched fields,
uncertain if a harvest will ever come.

We imagine another track,
winding through golden meadows,
red, ripened fruit,
images fading softly on the horizon.

We cannot match the pace
of our unfolding lives.
Instead, we sit in a quiet corner,
savoring a quiche and cappuccino,
the world moving past in colors,
blue, yellow, red,
pouring through the window.

And with gentle, wistful hearts,
we hug,
and continue our journey together.