Disillusionment

The train had come far toward its destination,
although the route was not the one he'd dreamed.
At first, yes: mountains, cities, oceans, friends.
Then, vast expanse of dusty, arid plains
connecting small, unmemorable stations
where strangers neither smiled nor spoke to him.
The rhythm of the wheels lulled him toward sleep,
his only wish, the tedious journey's end.

by Max Reif

Comments (4)

Max - sort of like life - tomorrow is a new beginning, and we get all excited for the 'trip' only to have the day end in the same old way - in front of the TV eating a TV dinner. I always say anticipation is usually better than the real thing. But not always.............You write with great flair and intellect - I like your style very much. Regards, Linda
Max, it is sometimes possible not to get off at your intended station... Wonderful poem -Eila
Max, I took a trip much like you described in 'Disillusionment' from Connecticut to California. I discovered, at journey's end, how much I wanted to return back to where I started. Nice work...LSP
felt strange reading this poem a soft sad murmur almost like giving in to a secret loss but, as I'm sure you know, the journey can't have and end Max may end or wish for an end at the moment but your essence goes on must go on how could you disappear want to disappear another deep poem, appearing simple opens up an entire world