DM Babbit Poet Ballad

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.

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