Sanoja: Erlend Oye. Ghost Trains.

Crash on the highway,
stranded between.
My friends had waited,
but left without me.
A glimpse on the platform,
we met on the train.
She came from further,
heading my way.
Three days in April,
three years ago.
One black eyed stranger
I learned to know
made all my plans stop
shook me off track.
Ten days of longing
I followed her back.
A plane made of paper
struck by the light
circled forever
over the city at night.
Like a movie,
like a song,
how it should be
being young