The Train Whistle

When I’m drifting softly to sleep I often hear a faint sound from across the valley, the whistle from a passing train, mysterious and lonely. In my mind’s eye I can see its shadow plunging into the darkness.. Only the wind left in its wake. It takes part of my heart on its journey. A lonely child played on the tracks Arms outstretched, balancing.. bowing. The old station..castle, fortress, friend. Dreams of far away places and adventures.. In passing, a hand raised in greeting..a gift to savor when twilight called me home. Now, when I hear the glorious whistle I pause to remember, in a way to grieve the past.. and in perhaps, on occasion, the present. The train rumbled on…..into the night. written in 09