I wait for the midnight train in an abandoned station, <br />starring at the night with my pockets empty. <br /> <br />Something makes me believe it will take me to an island, <br />a place that only exists in my imagination and lunacy. <br />i picture it so fragile as a silver dream, as a paper aeroplane. <br />in that island there is no hard and exaustive work, no rotine, <br />people live contemplating rainbows and the blue sky. <br />the fisherman know all the fishes, some even have names. <br />there are no boring and soft afternoons, <br />the clock moves forward at mid-day. <br />lovers lay down at the grass, gazing at sensual and hipnotizing horizons. <br />its the place for all the wanderers who live for their senses. <br /> <br />Without noticing i feelt asleep and lost the train, <br />so ill just have to wait for the next one.<br /><br />André Lopes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-train-2/
