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Poetry

The ride to Mashad

 

Mahnaz Zardoust-Ahari
January 16, 2006
iranian.com

Hopped on a train

On the way to Mashad

Riding along the outskirts

Of the Capital city

Speed gradually increasing

Hearing the clump-clump of the tracks

The gentle sway of the train

Like rocking a babe to sleep

As we go the city turns to sand

Slowly disappearing

As if it turns to dust

Riding along hearing

The clump-clump, clump-clump

As the train runs down the track

Seeing the desert go on for miles

As if nothing else is there

Feeling the gradual climb

As we go north

Going through the dark tunnel

Not knowing what is on the other side

Closing my eyes I look up and see

The inscription on the cabin door

This was an old Russian train

From the sixties

I close my eyes to the rhythmic sounds

Of the train running down

As day turns to night

We come to a stop

Just passengers coming and going

Not my stop

The train gradually starts again

Picking up speed

The sway puts me back again

To a semi-peaceful slumber

I awake and see the day

The train gradually slows

The clump-clump seems

To be louder now

We are closer to the city

The sway not as soothing

But is still there

The train made it again

Safe and sound

To the city of Mashad.

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