When Poseidon struck

Engulfed by an unforeseen bout of nostalgia,

that lump in my throat threatening to burst; 

Eyes welling with an unforced spurt, 

My train of thought, the culprit. 

The vine was tightening its noose 

around my astoundingly placid head 

It was rather at peace 

Until it chose to think instead. 

The humdrum of city life wasn't enough to distract 

when Poseidon struck 

Now that the mess is made 

The rubble will fade in its own sweet time 

As life continues to take its course 

Whist living in the remnants of a wrecked train 

Not in substance, but of thought.