The Station: A Poem

Trains come rumbling through the station all day.
Nearby, roads are crumbling under tires.
Black locomotives glow from the sun’s ray.
Smoke fills the air blown by the coal fires.
Inside, the clink clank of change in machines;
A man waits on the chair, tears in his eyes,
Dressed in a flannel shirt and baggy jeans.
Dragging paper bags, he thinks of the lies.
So long ago he was sent to the street,
Left with nothing but the clothes on his back.
Never had money or enough to eat.
Ready for change he looks out to the track.
Black smoke rises, it won’t be a while.
Taken aback, he’s greeted with a smile.

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