Issue 1 - June 2025 - Tanka prose 3

Ghosts of the Past

The train station has changed. Where wooden benches once stood, rows of plastic chairs gleam under fluorescent lights. The old tea vendor is gone, but I can still see his kind bearded face and hear the clink of his glasses

On the departure board, my hometown no longer appears.

loud whistle
makes hordes of pigeons
take flight. . .
my childhood departs
on the last train

Neena Singh, India

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