Train Whistles

The lack in me is but a distant
Echo of train whistles
Always promising to arrive
At my empty station to let
Off the passengers that might fill
My soul with something more
Than nothing
And yet my twisted fingers
That hold these wasted tickets
To nowhere grip my heart with
Longing for that which
Only lies singing in the distance
For nothing stops at a dead station
But more nothing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s