Cigar smoke,

possibly from Belgium,

wafting through the air.

Children’s laughter;

the chime-like sound

of babbling brother and sister, perhaps.

A thin silhouette

of a young woman, maybe 25 or so,

against the rail-car window.

Crimson carpet,

blue dreams of Germany,

violet moments in-between.

Italian perfume,

like silk among the back row

of red lipstick and fur coats.

Steel tracks:

paralleled veins that pump and rattle,

always leading, always following.

Blue-grey eyes;

on their last trip home.

An old man stares through the kaleidoscope of time.

Crimson carpet,

blue dreams of Germany,

violet moments in-between.

India ink: deep harmony of quill and paper.

A book opens, its spine cracks and wrinkles,

as hand records the details.