Andalucian Red Wine: part III

I lost myself

in those endless fields

of olive trees

picture-perfectly framed

by the window

of that train

as we cut across

the Spanish countryside.

I started to feel more alive

my headache from all that wine

began to subside

by the time

we reached Madrid.

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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