She loved the low, mournful
\nsound of trains.
\nShe knew she could never die.
\nShe heard that in the trains.
\nThey needed someone to listen,
\nsomeone to know their long,
\nserpentine sadness.
\nThey went to the end of all destinations.
\nThey never stopped.
\nThey went through a multitude of crossroads.
\nThey told each one their story.
\nThe woman who lost her lover.
\nThe child who was utterly alone.
\nThe man who froze
\nand never returned their call.<\/p>\n
The trains knew them,
\nheard them,
\ncollected their souls,
\nand my sister shook with their suffering,
\nlay awake,
\nand heard their passing.
\nShe was the child who never slept.
\nThe one the trains knew, who listened,
\nand they never told her she would die,
\nher heart would break,
\nthe years would be so sad.
\nIt was all new,
\nher story still untold,
\nand she called to me to listen.
\n\u201cListen, Ted, listen…
\nto the trains!\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
She loved the low, mournful sound of trains. She knew she could never die. She heard that in the trains. They needed someone to listen,…<\/p>\n