A Demented Railway Journey

The train trip races, rips through scenes
along the tracks. Speed splinters views,
unfamiliar vistas fill vacated memories,
worlds I lived in, souvenirs I used to own.
I grab a rough rush mat from a helter-skelter child,
leave her to stare as I whoosh down to meet the ground.
I scissor buildings, yielded by their owners to my eyes,
replace pieces one by one to restructure, resurrect
every house I ever lived in, with Mam and Dad,
with him, with them and then alone. I fill holes,
confabulate my tapestry to hang where facts once stood.
I don't know where I'm heading or where I've been
in my imagination. Are you a stranger or my own? Please, hold my hand. I'll sleep now,
and dream until the final station.