Nomad Writer

A train rattles by in the distance

Its sound reminiscent

Of a long and gravelly yawn

Swallowing the last light

Of dusk

As shadows emerge

In heavy cloaks

Of mystery and allure

Lethargy trailing

At their large backs

Like acrid clouds

Wispy fingers stretched

To drag the vulnerable

Stumbling and swaying

Against its unrelenting pull

Until their senses

Sink to the aphotic plain

Of a deep slumber

Devouring their conscious

With merciless greed