trains going somewhere

the train doesn't

come through here anymore.

i used to watch it as a child.

listening

to the thunder of wheels.

furious on the rails.

the engineer pulling the chain

to blow the whistle.

the tracks are covered now

in bramble,

and weeds. tall grass. the

first start of start

of trees.

i would watch the trains

for

hours and count the cars.

the coal cars,

the passengers looking out

from fogged windows.

waving to children unlike me, 

going somewhere.