Nameless
The train didn’t slow down
I couldn’t get off
On this station
The sidings were removed
Only weed felt at home
On this station
The building still stands
I don’t know the name
The name of this station
It must have been short
To fit the empty area on the wall
There must have been life and joy
People, and goods, coming and going
There are signs by the tracks
To let the driver know when to blow the horn
To wake those not yet dead
It seemed as a lament to me
When the horn remained silent
Passing this station
Copyright © Jo Mykle Hofseth | Year Posted 2021
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