Somewhere there’s a little train
Moving slowly on a track.
It rolls between two stations now,
One’s ahead — the other far back.
 
The station back, this is the past,
From when the trip begun.
When the train was not a baby
But still beautiful and young.
 
The train was long with many cars,
It’s engine confident and strong.
It pulled a heavy cargo,
Everywhere, and all day long.
 
But time and work and weather
Took a toll upon the train.
Less cars are pulled and cargo too,
As it aged beneath the strain.

Yet the train rolls toward the station,
Its future — the final stop ahead.
To unload the freight it carries,
Where the train will rest in death.

Copyright©2009 Dan Wright