A poem
by Chris Hibbard


I’ve got a ticket in my hand
That will get me on a train
Not going anywhere in particular

Outside there is rain
But in the station here
I’m soaked with green-tinted light
Not shining anywhere in particular

To my right there is a man
Who is singing to himself a song
Not to any tune in particular

I sing along with the man, right there
He wonders of my name
Not telling him anything in particular

It’s all the same in a smoke filled room
People pass right by
Though not anyone in particular

I let out a sigh so loud
That is seems a little peculiar
But not for any reason in particular


~ by Chris Hibbard on November 6, 2008.

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