The Train Goes by Here Evenings Heading West

The train goes by here evenings heading West.

A rise of sound, a rumble, rattling windows;
Squirrels backing halfway down the branch;
And then sound's lonesome fall, and once more silence.

The train goes by here evenings heading West.

So quiet in its wake I hear the plumbing
And the desk lamp's blue florescent hum;
The meter of a swaggering conversation
Perhaps a dozen paces down the hall.

The train goes by here evenings heading West.

And in the deeper silence of its passing,
I mark how very old I have become.
And mark with wonder I no longer mark
One more evening that I am not on that train.

- Stephen K. Roney