That Train

That train never intended to take on any passengers:
it just sort of arrived, empty, a little forlorn
and worn, worn out, filled with doubt, and in need of
some life to fill it up with happy, smiling faces,
people itching to really go places once again,
those tired souls who paid twice: once for love,
and once for vice, the ones left to float to sea on a
block of ice; and then there at the station, standing
with tickets, just two such folks, listening and
wondering, considering each other and pondering;
and just as that train began to sound its whistle,
they threw caution to the winds and let it fly up like
a thistle, and they hopped on board, just as skeptical
as weary, and the train slid forward, but was in no
hurry; and then on and on that train it traveled, and
one by one the two found mysteries unraveled, and
they found, much to their surprise, that their smiles
smiled more widely when they looked into each
others eyes; and though bumps in the track sometimes
conspired to derail, that train chugged on, leaving a
memorable trail; a trail full of laughter and hope and
of love, and a story that delighted and excited the
crowd, a love that was proclaimed and exclaimed out
loud; but then something reappeared and changed for
the two, and things long ignored became impossible
to do; and what had seemed to be a story without end,
one that finds everyone happy in the end, well that
story, sadly, it had to stop, broken, frozen, like bent
hands on a clock; yet the two, for all of the sadness
surrounding the sorriest ends, had enough love left
to remain forever friends; for they cared, each of them,
about the other so deep, that forever was a rather simple
promise to keep; and yet as one stood on the platform
alone, and that train left the station with a whine and a
groan, the one left onboard did send one last kiss and
wave, to the one with empty hands, the one being
brave; and as that train gave it's whistle one last blow,
the two surely wished that that train didn't go; so when
you hear that train whistle calling out sweet and low,
remember that the joys are wherever you go.

February 23, 2009, for all my fellow passengers.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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