Shuttle-bug..

That train, I must catch..
I don't have my possessions.
Should they be here with me, I know not.
I should be in that train, I know that.

That train, I must be on it..
It stops where it stops and it promises a ride.
These times, I must bid them.
Those memories, I must keep them. safe.

That train, which calls me..
How do I cut these threads that connect me.
With no one to help pack or wave goodbye.
I feel empty and I'm so full, from everything.

That train, of new dreams and hope..
I see a field of daisies and a sky of a blue unknown.
I hear smiles and I feel laughter.
I sense warmth and love and comfort is our flavor

That train, shiny and morose..
Tattered suit and polished shoes.
A wrinkle for every adventure and a tear for every joy.
I should go quietly but it won't come so easily.

That train, won't you wait just a bit..
I know I must and I know I will.
But, I do love this place and this was mine.
Let me be here, just a while and smell the dead flowers.

That train, not long now..

Smiling and shiny.
Broken and morose.
Gleaming and bright.
Dark and painful.


We all have our stops and our stations. Some, we take out of choice and others we take out of need. This journey we travail, till we find the stop that we would like to get off. For now, maybe tomorrow and hopefully forever.