The Train

A poem of movement and sound.

The wheels chug chug,
Melancholy to the air,
The rhythm of the iron and steel,
The smell of friction everywhere.

The sun beams down,
On this sight of moving feat,
A workhorse brings it wards’
To the busy urban streets.

Slow slow slow
The train into the station crawls,
Passengers get on and off,
Another trip, another haul.

Going going through the night,
The train,  a wonder,
What a sight!