I see the sun through the fog.

I'm on a train.

I have never been on a train before.

The train's motion feels like I'm swaying on the rocking chair in my room.

I now know why so many stories have a baby being lulled to sleep by the movement of a train.

I see the sun through the fog.

The sun is beautiful.

The is stripped of its shine by the mist, to be transformed into a circle ringed with black.

It looks as if it isn't the sun, but a hole made in the sky with a paper punch.

What if the sun does go round the earth?

I imagine it on a train, carried round, sitting on its own at a table seat.

I imagine the sun being lulled to sleep.

Like a baby on a train in a book.