trains at the station

i like the train.

the old trains.

the sound of a train.

the mythology

of trains.

the rails.

the stations.

the people waiting to

board,

to get on

with their lives.

i like how they look

arriving in the fog,

the lights,

white,

red flashes,

how they appear

as they depart,

the smoke, the chug

of wheels,

the conductor

yelling all aboard,

the whistle and 

the face in the window

of the last car, 

crying as she waves

to those left standing

in the cold.