The Train of Nowhere

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I wrote this quickly for a poetry seminar. It uses lots of big words, which is why I like it ^^
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Stood at the platform of a station, in the middle of nowhere,
I look down at the tracks, and they are frozen.
The faint musk of fetid frondesence hangs in the air,
Like the funeral shroud over a cold casket.
The night air is still and crisp,
And not a sound can be heard.

Without warning, a sharp blast pierces the ennui,
And a fierceness of anti-shadow shakes my vision.
The brutish presence of an express forces itself into the station
With an incontrovertible strength, like that of a storm.
The night air is still crisp,
But is now filled with hope.

With the hiss of a cobra, the doors glide open,
And I cannot resist the charm of the carriage beyond.
The promised warmth of the cubicle envelops me,
Like the soothing troth of an open fire.
The air is now soft,
And lulls me into security.

As if driven by a jet engine, the train sets off at a great pace,
And I can’t help but feel swept up, and a little shaken.
The smooth ride feels as though it is too relaxed,
Like the beguiling eye of a hurricane.
The air is still soft,
But laced with fragility.

Every stop along the way brings new and exciting destinations,
But they pass by so fast I scarcely have time to enjoy them.
The bumps in the track, too, jar me,
Like a gentle jolt in my heart.
The air is growing cold once more,
Despite the perceived heat of my setting.

And once again without warning, the train lurches to a stop.
There are no more stations,
No more destinations,
I am back at that icy, solitary station of my journey’s inception.