A train journey to the South

coast of England on

a frozen February day,

perfectly content with an

hour and a half gift

of solitude.

The trees look sad 

as they rush past me - 

bare, cold; with

nothing to hold. 

I am afraid of many things.

Being like the trees

is one of them.

I am now in Bradford, but no - 

not the Bradford I know, this

one has the Avon;

not the Aire.

Train journeys, rivers 

flowing, planes flying,

people dying. Cars

driving, birds flying. All

going somewhere. 

So please don’t ever be scared.

by Charlotte Owen, 4th February 2012