comes a train heading south

by Ron Whitehead

Drawing by Evelyn Mayton

Imagine

every thought word action

etched forever in a cloud

I love to travel

Often as not I go alone

wandering off to faraway lands

my solo footprints on drifting sands

walking down dusty roads

chirping crickets singing toads

After an orange sunset

early night late July

I hear soft music

a forlorn song

coming from an old piano

way over yonder on a hill

Clouds drift under

a new moon and a starlit sky

Comes a train heading south

whistle blowing long and low

After it passes I stand for a while

on the warm tracks all aglow

I find myself under the stars

floating in a cloud under the moon

knowing I will be home soon

Click here to view Ron’s bio!