The Train and the Room Out Back
A train went by in the distance
and I could hear it passing
every few hours or so from the back
bedroom of my grandfather’s house
My room, when mom came home
after she and dad derailed, but the
train out back was always certain to its track....
no burden that I needed to understand.
My room, and commuter’s haven in college,
and mom felt so much better
with me moved back in the house
in case the old man fell.
And when she fell first,
the spill shut down the town
and the Train roared into that long
awake night out in the back.
Still my room when I moved away
with the years, and understood
that home is more of a time
than a place, both slipped
beyond the great reclaim. You
were there once, and I’m sure
the train went by that night but
neither one of us heard the roll.
Years later, my sister and I sold
the house, and I slept the closing
eve in that room out back
the farewell caravan
pealing on by the foot board--
moving on with the moving on,
it’s boxcar back always open
to the hobo---up for a jump.
Copyright © Craig Sipe | Year Posted 2022
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