train poem

The rain fell over the light, blinding my eyes,
Obscuring the landscape from coming to light.
Alone on a platform, a figure stands waiting,
And listens intently for a faraway train.

Somewhere, a whistle breaks the silence of my mind,
The rumble of engines breaks the night’s calm.
The lamps of the engine cut through the dark mist,
Approaching the station through rain keeps on the hum.

It groans to a stop, the hiss of its brakes,
Doors open wide as the figure awaits.
A chance to escape on this cold, dreary eve,
As thunderclouds scream, the silhouette disappears.

The figure steps forward toward a safe moving shelter,
The train is a haven, a warmth-giving nest.
Into the car and away from the chill, the figure is gone
The engine churns onward o’er meadow and hill.

And I stand there waiting for the next passenger.
To observe the world and smile at how it evolves!

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