In this empty station I fix my gaze

Upon the skyline of incoming train

The whistle’s folly, the steam engine’s craze

Shipped boxes of pleasure and bottled pain

Some pump out opaque shrouds of choking smoke

Tires bleeding against rails with muffled shrieks

Some trumpets so loud that from dreams I woke

One blows a gust that makes my knees too weak

Some bring unreal bliss that the whole world spins

Some leave the station yet leave not my brain

My eyes search where their whole journey begins

And if their next stop will be less mundane

Trains come and go but here I always stay

Set to welcome the trains of the next day.