Smudged Window View

The world outside, a blur of green,

the endless, passing, painted scene.

Smudged with fingerprints, small and wet,

a journey I can't quite forget.

The smell of vinyl, stale and deep,

secrets that the miles would keep.

Plastic worn, the seat too low,

watching where the cars would go.

A rumble felt, a distant sigh,

beneath a vast and empty sky.

Trapped between the seat and door,

wishing I was somewhere more.