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About This Poem
The Train Don't Come By
Old wooden benches covered in dust
Windows broken, some glass on the floor
I long for a seven day ride on the rails
But the train don't come by here no more
Those days are gone when the railroad was king
And you could hear that whistle each night
I still jump on board in my nostalgic dreams
Riding that freight train clean out of sight
Summer days, I walk along the old tracks
Where the blueberries are still growing wild
While I'm walking I daydream about
The days when I was a child
I walk by the station and think back to the days
When passengers rode by the score
I'd like one time to take a seven day ride
But the train don't come by here no more.
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