Each day is priceless;
We can treasure memories
Of both weal and woe.
There is, there must be
Ample light at the end of
The tiring tunnel.
Upon the tracks, the train does glide,
With people inside, a bustling tide.
I wonder their thoughts, as they journey along,
To places afar, or where they belong..
Are they lost in the moment, or lost in their mind?
Seeking solace or adventure to find?
Heading home sweet home, or to lands unknown,
In the train's gentle rhythm, their stories are sown.
Through bustling cities and quiet plains,
The train carries them, through sunshine and rains.
And though paths diverge, as they each disembark,
They leave an imprint, like a fading spark..
But in the grand scheme, as the train chugs on,
Each finds their purpose, and the journey's done.
Whether seeking or returning, they all have a role,
In the tapestry of life, they play a vital whole.
So when I see a train, I see more than just motion,
I see a symphony of souls, each with their own notion.
Of love, of longing, of joy, of pain,
Bound together in the rhythm of the train.
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