The Lilac Express

Jun 28, 2026

Spring is short. But it comes again.
— “Lilac” by IU

ALONE, I STAND, HANDS IN MY COAT,
Beneath an ice-cold sky.
She’s shaken out her winter dress
To let snow-feathers fly.

The station is as still as stars
And lit in moonbeam gray,
Like tombs beneath a silent night
Awaiting sun and day.

But then a gentle touch of air
Begins to stroke my face,
And lilac petals swirl about
On wings of warmth and grace.

And then a light begins to shine
And the tracks are gilded gold;
And a distant horn begins to blow
And the night air feels less cold.

A flood of sunbeams fill the night
And petals in the air,
And darkness dies in lavender
And gold gleam everywhere.

I close my eyes and open them,
And the station fades away,
And in its place are train car seats
In the light of dawning day.

The seats are green and gilt in gold,
The roof and walls are glass,
And beyond them are the flower seas
And the fields and farms we pass.

Then thunder cracks and clear drops fall
And shatter on the pane
And mingle on the crystal roof
With blooms of lilac rain.

The lilac petals whirl about
As spring’s soft breezes blow
And I press my face against the glass
To watch them fall like snow.

Then through a world of wood and leaves
We pass in misty light,
Which changes from pale white to gold,
From soft to amber bright.

Then sand and sea and shores appear,
And homes in pastel blue,
And the sun shines brightly in a sky
As crystal clear as dew.

Children are playing in the waves,
While lovers walk hand-in-hand,
And sailboats glide through wine-dark sea
As the train glides more inland.

Families picnic on gold-green lawns,
And fireflies flash and fade,
And a flood of honeyed leaves and light
Fills the wood and glade.

Then gold-gilt turns to saffron bronze,
The trees to fire and flame,
And the whole world is a setting sun,
And leaves fall down like rain.

Small children fly kites in the sky
That stream on autumn’s breath,
Thin strands of red and golden blood,
Like the sun in noble death.

And now it’s there, the dying sun,
Sinking below the earth,
And the train is racing to its end:
To twilight flame and mirth.

We race past trees and grass and streams,
As all things grow more bright,
And the horn resounds and all earth fades
In a blaze of blinding white.

Gasping, I breathe the cold night air,
And feel the warmth of my coat.
And see the moon and sky and stars,
And snow, in the wind, afloat.

I grasp at something in my hair
And hold it in the light.
A lilac petal is in my palm,
In moonlight, silver-white.