Walkaway Train



The train slowed to a halt
Miles before my stop.
I was being ferreted out
From the safe space of my car.
Now I’d have to walk.


Expired ticket in hand,
Once worthy of entry,
Is now but a bittersweet souvenir:
Reminder of a ride hitherto enjoyed
When speed was steady
And skies were clear.


But as new passengers board
I pine for the comfortable box
That once held me.
Now a housing for others
Which is, I suppose, how trains work.

But that hardly quells me.


I watch the machine
Re-engage, and pull away slowly
As smoke starts to billow. 
Chasing it down ‘fore it’s good and gone
Just to glimpse
Another's head on my pillow.




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lyrycsyntyme's picture

To me, this is a great

To me, this is a great metaphor, through and through. The last two lines really cement the feeling of having been moved on from.