life

There were dreams once, moments of seeming glory where angels stopped and smiled. So in melancholy whilst the juncture lapses the train hurtles forward, onward toward endlessness. For then the station comes into view and the great wheels grind to a halt. And now even Morpheus has forgotten, what the old man dreamt, whom it was he once loved. Music plays so soft, so sweetly as he tries to hurry down the platform but all he was has wandered away, shorn of love, abandoned like an unused stretch of track and still the violins play so haunting a melody. And the seas crash, explode against the breakers sending white-capped foam spraying along the beach. And the old man sits feeding pidgeons by the sea as glimmers of dreams bring salty tears to his eyes. Then he is young again, embracing his Juliet by the emerald waters as piano notes roll so gently they are barely heard.
One final time he tastes lips so long forgotten, so soft with memories of youth. An old man closes his eyes and dreams.