Passing Young’s Lane
As the early morning train pulls out
Of Newmarket Station it dives down towards Auckland
Towards another working day: The bells ring
And the warning lights flash at Young’s Lane
I look indifferently out the window
Expecting to see nothing other than dark-grey skies
To my right a shaft of golden light
Transforms the otherwise sullen landscape
Beyond the marshes and swamps of Öärkei
Straight down the Gulf I see Waiheke
Where you two moved to the other day
Waiheke is the place where the light is strongest
Suddenly the train lurches to the left
We enter the Parnell Tunnel plunged into darkness
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