going home

weary travelers, half asleep
in their seats,
rolling towards a setting sun.
the rumble of the train
a lullaby
of wheels and steel,
the whistle,
the bump of track,
the slowing at another station,
the push of doors
that open then close,
the tipped hat to shade
the eyes,
the window and what's outside
no longer of interest.
stuffed luggage waiting below
to be unpacked.
how nice to go somewhere,
take photographs,
have a new memory, be tired
and come back.