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The Train
May 9, 2014
When I was young,
I rode the Train.
Shadows moved to it
without a smile to feign.
One day an old man,
small but proud,
cried watch this son,
hollering from the crowd.
People did not notice.
They moved on their way.
As he jumped to the tracks,
the Train did not delay.
Later, Momma said,
Son don’t look down,
The man was crazy,
he wore a frown.
The next day another
approached me at the station
He said, son,
this is my salvation.
The man leaped down,
throwing his cane.
I cried, How many bodies
will stop this Train?
© Al J., Mt. Prospect, IL
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