The Train Station

by

Robert S. Nailor


The station stood there silently
A radiance of the ages.
I arrived each day at morning
And listened to working sages.

We gathered in our clusters
In rain, sleet and shine
I'd tell my jokes of humor
To let them know I'm fine.

Listening for the whistle
With great anticipation
Then moving with reverence
To a seating destination.

The train rumbled by the station
As we rolled on toward the city.
It was 6 AM in the morning
All the more to pity.

The station quietly awaited
Our anxious day end's burn.
To see us run and hustle
Before our next return.