Fantasy Poetry by Colleen Anderson

The Traveller


She haunted smoky train stations

towing a tattered, overlarge suitcase

like a faithful dog more streetwise

than her innocence held close like her shawl


The stations were any station, everywhere

people discarding used secrets, fleeing from their past

the lost foraged where others had devoured any happy endings

There, she was no different, except she rekindled hope


know, but constantly No scars or wrinkles mapped her face

her eyes like pools one falls into but cannot escape

not the flowing font of knowledge nor a grail to behold

She was the stone that water cannot touch but surrounds


Passersby noticed her diminutive frame, the monolithic valise

yet forgot her as she trundled away, the case swaying a rhythm

crammed with mysteries and castoffs of the most unlikely lives

She hummed a tune, childlike, light as pigeons in the girders overhead


It was only late into the night, in the clutches of old doorways

leaning on the broken teeth of railings

that she would unzip her bag, furrow like a ferret

reveal the burdens that she had taken and stored


Sometimes she pulled out a chipped, porcelain tea set

shared a biscuit and the contents of her travels

with the Gypsies or the Wandering Jew

any who flowed unnoticed through the stream of time


She savored each lost soul, every sorrowed past

as if they were all that kept her going

as she journeyed to the next station

waiting for the departed and forgotten



Colleen Anderson’s poetry has been twice nominated for the Aurora Award, and won second place in the Crucible and Rannu competitions. Some new and forthcoming poems are in Transition Magazine, Grievous Angel, The Future Fire, Eye to the Telescope and the HWA Poetry Showcase. My poetry collection Ancient Tales, Grand Deaths and Past Lives is available through Kelp Queen Press. Find Colleen online at

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