FINAL STOP WARSAW

The sky is pink and blue

Rumbling towards dusk

There’s a train

With final stop Warsaw

The buildings are crumbling

Still shelled from the war

But dolled up in neon graffiti

The treeline turns black

Night blankets the train

The same now as it was then

Fields still growing

There are no marks

Just the black sky

That twines itself around

The granddaughter

Of the ghost riders

On a train with

Final stop Warsaw