The Train

Here I rest, a rusting hulk Alone, aloof, within my bulk The hiss of steam within my veins The pistons pulling at the reins Mere memories now of a loyal life Now round my rivets rust is rife No clank of coal, no whistle shout No churning wheels, no water spout Now rust flakes fast to line my grave Where only leaves and litter pave This epitaph to a faithful slave And don't deny I served you well Yet now condemned within my cell Of rusted rails that bind me fast Those guiding hands of days long past When smells of grease and hissing steam Echoed gleams and children's screams As stones and steel rushed past my head Now tears of rain make up this bed A burial cloak for a servant laid To rest and rust in romance dead