with our throats made sore 
by tears pushed back 
our sadness shining in the wetness of our eyes 
we stand 
and sense the coming of the going 
and the end of a rainbow

here where we hold a moment heavy in our breasts 
we hope against all odds the train will not leave 
it leaves 
washed down the tracks by our tears 
its groaning coaches downing our weeping

and in the mirror of our parting 
we say goodbye to yesterday's stranger 
and catch a glimpse of something 
than the whiskies that we'll drink to forget 
forget that in one aging moment we could cry 
and that in that moment we could feel 
and that in that moment 
we were alive

--Norway, 1975

© Arenson Paul 2016