My world begins to move.
It bumps and heaves and jerks and falters.
Things , blurry things, float past me and beneath me as usual.
But , I begin to sense a new motion through my legs and seat.
My heart beats faster...I know because I can hear it inside my ears.
Curiosity begs me to look beyond...beyond the confines of my personal space- my carriage .
Green...I remember green flying past...beautiful , fresh , new.
Wind...I remember wind rushing into my face making me struggle to lift my eyelids against its force , fully open to the green.
Speed...it was me! It was me who was moving , not the world
...and it was exciting ;
...and I laughed that deeply satisfied belly roll of pure joy;
...and I wanted more .
a poem by thepowmill/2011
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