The noise, just enough to resonate within my brain,
then it’s gone
I don’t think about the tram until the sound repeats
seven minutes or even nine later
rumbling, clanging, scraping
familiar and comforting
The background noise
it comes and goes, a wave of consolation
portraying a world beyond
my window panes
I’m transported to the daily lives of suburban people
who move like ants across the metropolis
school kids with overstuffed backpacks
and exaggerated actions
Business men and women
neat and suited, to display their serious intent
older people, a day out, an appointment
not hurried but watching
Factory workers whose eyes hold no interest for anything but home
tired, they carry the daily shop in plastic bags
young people on I-phones, slouch at angles in their seats
jerkily they rise and they are off
The noise, just enough to resonate within my brain,
then it’s gone
Heather Whitford Roche 
I haven’t seen you write much prose. Such visuality in your words. I was there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for your words…and you are right I don’t write much prose, just every now and again when I have a little idea or have been triggered by something. Heather
LikeLiked by 1 person
Trams…a lovely, warm feeling from this read. Those different characters moving to the same drum yet separate as we are – I recognise them all, and here they are, beautifully bound together. Nice one Heather.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Maureen, trams are a Melbourne sound and experience that I love.
LikeLike
I know the exhilaration of just catching that tram because 9 mins is just too long to wait to get home. They have a jolliness about them or they used to when I sat in the middle section with the wind and the date palms flicking by. Thanks for the memories.
LikeLiked by 1 person