The train comes calling at midnight.
Do you hear it, the sound of its wailing horn?
The rumble of the tracks vibrate
As it approaches with scorn.
Blinding light hails its presence
In the mask of darkness unknown.
Where is your ticket to ride
This monster of metal, wood, and stone?
Step back, away from the edge
Lest you dive from platform
Straight onto the tracks
And find a new home.
And when the train comes calling at midnight,
Without your ticket, don't go,
For the train only calls those
Who've already lost their homes.
YOU ARE READING
Simply Poetry
PoetryA collection of poems by Sean Arturo Last. You are encouraged to leave your interpretations in the comments. -- © All Rights Reserved (No unauthorized copy, distribution, transmission, or alteration of the work.)
