PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Tracks cut across the land like sloppy sutures

Mountains rise like boils in the snow

Massive trees glare at you in dark green robes

The gray sky oppresses your spirit

The train stops in a barely existent unpronounceable town

And you get off to stretch your legs

The cold stabs your skin like thousands of ice picks

You walk into a tiny restaurant and order soup

And it's not very good but the warmth

Permeates your crystallized blood and it flows again

You sit there until the train is ready again

It's nearly night and the sky is still gray

But you won't sleep tonight

Because you're mesmerized

By Russia's frigid, beautiful embrace