The Train

There it is again, same time as yesterday lingering in the distance drifting farther away loud sharp sounds that fade disappearing beyond the light shade calling out, crying, That lonesome train whistle departing from the station passengers seated safe in place rustling click clack along the iron tracks not once looking back calling out, crying, A song like rhythm shouts and sings whistling down the path drumming, humming in the breeze hurrying on before the winter freeze setting sight along passing lands calling out, crying, let me go.