night train

sometimes,

in the soft september solitude

in the drowsy,quiet hours,

when the world of every working day slips off to bed,

beneath the quilts of fretful prayers and dreams of better days,

i can hear the call, the howling call,

of the shadow train,

that passes this neck of woods,

rolling, rolling on its way

to the land of Far Away,

it is a haunting call, a beckoning to a yearning deep within,

a sultry song sung by some sad and soulful angel,

an angel who has always searched for me.

"Come to me, oh, fair-haired boy,

so filled with un-dreamt dreams,

come to me, before i pass by here

no more, no more, forever."

the window curtains brush my cheek,

as i lean out to see her smoke,

the moonlight casts magic into my eyes,

and in the air, i sense the something more,

as the whistle blows once more,

and the night train travels on,

leaving me to wonder.

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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