EMPTY-HANDED

How I loved trains as a child!

Now I stand at the platform
Looking blankly
Watching intently
For what I can't see.
Trains mean to me
The last coach receding
Into the distance
Diminishing 

Breaths seceding
As I watch....futilely,
While I stay rooted
To the burning concrete
Unable to move
Towards it.
Away from it.
I stand and wait
Another day,
There's only this one train
That comes my way,
And each day I wait and believe
That the train will stop,
That the train will wait,
Till I can get on
But the rear end
Is all I see,
As I wait endlessly
Rooted to my concrete.
The train moves on
Into the green fields of barley
Fields of eternity
The fields that I try to reap
Under the winter sun
But how does the train carry them
Into your summer breeze?
All I'm left hugging
Is thin air
On the empty platform of concrete. 

MS