by Richard Vince
I send my love to you by train,
As if a couple of hundred tons
Of metal could somehow carry it
Across the many miles of unfamiliar
Country between me and you.
My mother always used to do that:
She sent our love to countless friends
And family members on countless trains
That were bound for where they lived.
I am my mother's son, I know.
My eyes wander over the gently
Rolling Warwickshire hills, and
I wonder whether they are like
The landscape through which you
Travel every day; whether the
Blushing light of the setting Sun
Looks the same to you.
This is dream country: an endless
Playground of dense trees and
Lush grass begging to be explored.
I imagine where you live to be
Like this: quiet villages linked
By sinuous lanes graced by
Your footsteps as your eyes
Take in the trees and hedgerows
And country churches that
Would delight Betjeman.
The trees and fields are now
Giving way to houses and factories
As I head into the big city,
But my thoughts remain in
The countryside, where the beauty
Of the sunset will soon ignite
The sky with heavenly fire.
As I leave it behind, I wish you
A beautiful, peaceful evening.
You deserve nothing less.
Posted on 06/23/2008
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 06/24/08 at 12:44 AM|
|Posted by Amy Niggel on 06/26/08 at 03:30 PM|
Beautiful, reminds me of leaving Vermont on trains and buses when Mike and I were doing long distance. I always hated to leave the beautiful green mountains to go back to the city.
|Posted by Anita Mac on 06/26/08 at 11:53 PM|
I think this way rather frequently, too. Lovely lovely...
|Posted by Kristine Briese on 09/07/11 at 12:30 PM|
This is stunning; warm and fresh. Beautiful.