only roads and rails

and there were only 

roads and rails
a crossroads
beneath a horizon
a dangerous sky
where trees overshadowed
distance
and clouds
in a smoking heaven

I watched them hang
behind windscreen and eye
myself a brain trapped in
its interior of stifled air
suffocated
waiting
for a train to come

waiting for a train to blow
and whistle the wind
of its brief passing
and rescue these thoughts
I hazard against chance
and the fearful dream
that nothing more
will ever
break

this silence

© BH, 2020

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A post on Poetry Uk Facebook page - ‘write a poem’. So I did as did several others. There was a photo to guide us - shown above. A crossroads but not a crossroads. Different modes of transport, different journeys. Hey ho!