Ochre Sands and Chiselled Bones
or The Palace Wheels

Scrubbed, parched desert land
Hurtling across brooding forts
aflame in ancient past.

Beauty and honour preserved
In latticed yellow
of filigreed elegance

the Palace Wheels
past memories
of dim-lit corridors,
and other trains
where ochre sands
glint on hair lines
of chiselled bones,
breaking futile journeys
that ended long ago.

Slumbering children
sleep soundly.
There is much laughter
and many trivial pursuits
that you have yet to follow.

And I am still awake.