Here, in track led carriageway,
I can say one thing; or not. What,
With the sun shining out, and the trees,
In their shrouds of magic made
Heavings for free. A river has run,
Life has begun and I know
That the wind wakes, waters
A grass formed field. And I pass
Through the scenes a carriageway
Brings, and the finely put tracks
On The ground, sounding out through the chords,
I’ll remember no more, the happiness
A train brings around.
Eoghan Lyng is an Irish man and sometime writer. He lives in Glasgow, having written from the perspective from Cork, Madrid and Prague. He has written for OutlawPoetry, VadaMagazine and FromTheLighthouse.