The trains flew past.
\nThe car I will enter
\nis on a siding taking passengers.
\nSomething tells me
\nI do not have to go.
\nI do not have to join the train
\nto Heaven,
\nthe caravan to everlasting.<\/p>\n
I sit down on the suitcase
\nof my hopes and dreams.
\nThe treasures I cited
\nin the book of life I wrote.
\nNot everything.
\nJust the beauty I found.
\nThe love I had.
\nThe meaning that was found
\nand understood.<\/p>\n
The rest was cast away
\nin its newspaper.
\nSomething to wrap garbage in.
\nStart a fire.
\nI watch the steam
\nreleased from the engine.
\nThe grinding of iron wheels
\nand springs.
\nIs this the journey I want to take?<\/p>\n
In my heart I pulled a blanket
\nover my head and fell asleep.
\nIn the morning I woke
\nand saw no car or engine.
\nThe suitcase was gone.
\nI went to the terminal
\nand admired its geraniums.
\nThe windows were boarded.
\nThe train had left without me.
\nI walked away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The trains flew past. The car I will enter is on a siding taking passengers. Something tells me I do not have to go. I…<\/p>\n