Golden hour train ride

Blur are the buildings zipping past the train,
Blur is the grass, the trees.
Bright is the sunlight blinking through the peaks
Tracing my nose and my cheeks.
Slow are the cars on the roads down below
Moving so slow I can hardly see.
Gold is the sky so pleasing to the eye
So mesmerising that a glance cannot suffice.
Cold is the train, it's making me freeze
Too cold to ride with ease.