some trains have horns, some have whistles
they make their sounds as the roll by in the dark
it is a message; a warning to local traffic
although we often use the word mournful to describe it
Perhaps because we are half-awake
their rumbling arrives suddenly
as though from a dream
Late at night as they move within range
sometimes close enough to shake my home
Lying in bed, we remember train trips we have taken,
and those we didn't,
people whose faces we no longer remember
trains come and go
without regret
disinterested in the homes they have disturbed
Our mourning is our own and our memories
nudged awake by their passing,
are the only thing that is lonesome
.