I recall a disappearing handkerchief

waving as if in surrender,

but moving further away

smaller and smaller

along the slow curve of a railway track.

 

Mother was holding my hand,

I don’t remember what was happening

but I felt sad because she was crying.

It was quiet for a long time after

and nobody told me anything.

 

I want to talk to that child,

but he has gone.

Like the handkerchief, disappeared.

Now I am here with no hand to hold

The slow curve has closed its circle.

 

A small child is waving on a platform,

smaller and smaller.

A faceless woman clutches his hand

we recede,

we all recede.