I heard the trains last night,
the rattling of the rails
to the last distant
That endless labyrinth of rails,
the strangers who pursue them
on journeys to the far reaches of their hopes.
Hopes of tomorrow, hopes of yesterday,
down, down the mad rattling rails they go,
tracing the map of the heart,
crossing over the points
to the lovely lies
that shelter in the dream stations.
Oh what fools we become
when we get off that train,
no more the innocent whistle of wonderment,
the child’s shouts of joy
“We’re going to the seaside!”
You can spend a lifetime on trains;
the great age of steam still fills me with its glory,
those trains that went straight through the blaze of the setting sun,
when we were passengers of timelessness,
in a world full of hope.
Now I live near a station,
and I heard the trains last night.