The Departure

The native air still has

A strong aroma

That the toughened glass

Of the train can't hold.

The language that's so dear

And melody to my ear

Reaches me still

Amidst the chaotic whistles of the train.

The lush green landscapes

In a mid-summer afternoon

With cattle grazing tirelessly

Demeaning the sun's fury

Are like parting treats to my eyes

Before this ruthless train drags me away

From my loving homeland.