The distant whistle of a train echoes.
Gold, red, orange, pink, black, silver are etched in the sky.
These lonely train tracks stretch for miles.
Leading to your faded silhouette town.
Sitting for years, the metal and wood slowly
begin to sink away into the earth.
Youth was a long time ago. You probably don't recall it.
One day, I hope you wander down to the treeline,
Beyond the gas stations and office jobs.
Maybe if you ever come, and walk along side these tracks,
You'll pass many places where people you knew
once stood.
waiting
for a train that never came.
Glassy eyes and cold empty hands in need of holding.
Many lives have sped by, only a snapshot of what you left behind.
If you stay for a while, a brittle wind may blow.
It is the last breath of young adolescent souls.
Too little, too late for them.
They fade with the setting sun.
If you are brave enough to
play chicken with the devil,
to balance on the smooth metal,
you may hear haunted whispers,
washed away by rain and time.
Open your eyes, really open them, and see.
As the sun sinks down,
Leaving only its last dying rays,
The tracks no longer gleam.
They are lonely, aching
with dying innocence.
No longer is the world gold.
Did you see that? That is our lives;
Fading dawn into day, we forget our childhood.
So please, before you go and cross to the other side again, before you Adult,
walk away softly with the knowledge in your heart
that one day, if you are not
careful,
you may end up
another piece of mosiac memories
trapped in the unseen eyes
that spill tears when another flame burns out.
Look over your shoulder, remember.
See it in the way that the trees bend, or the sky fills with stars.
A calm breath, a memory of bliss.
These old, unassuming train tracks stretch for miles, leading all the way back
to when you were
Young.