Trains.

I live close enough,

To the tracks,

To hear the trains whenever,

They pass through town.

The screeching.

The whistling.

The rattling.

I lay in bed and hear the noises.

So comforting.

It's a lullaby.

I slowly drift to sleep.

 

Those pennies we flattened,

When we were so little.

I have them right here,

Only twenty-three cents.

The screeching.

The whistling.

The rattling.

We searched for those coins,

for hours.

It's a memory.

I bring back those good times.

 

The time you got lost,

In the woods.

You heard the trains,

And found your way out.

The screeching.

The whistling.

The rattling.

You followed the tracks,

Back to the old bridge.

It's a compass.

I'll find my own way.

 

Once, you tried dodging.

Standing and waiting.

I told you to stop it,

But you tried.

The screeching.

The whistling.

The rattling.

You didn't jump,

Quite fast enough.

It's my emptiness,

It'll never fade away.

The End

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