Waiting on the Train
one in tie and grey suspenders and crisp white hat;
the other in blue overalls and crumpled fishing hat
and holding a smooth, wooden cane in his hand;
sit, laughing and happy, in the front porch swing.
They keep company with a gentle, white-haired lady,
prim and proper in her Sunday best,
relaxed in her rocking chair,
passing the time on the front porch,
while the scent of honeysuckle drifts on the breeze.
All conversation comes to a stop
when the 3:15 comes roaring by,
just a short distance away
on the tracks at the edge of the lot.
They feel the vibrations through their feet
and up through their bones.
They wonder who is on the train,
where they are going,
and how their lives are about to change.
She holds up her index finger in a "just one minute" wave.
The trio nod and smile at each other.
When the caboose rattles by
and carries the last of the roar away with it,
the exchange of words and stories continues.
Some of us wait for the trains to pass
so we can tell our stories in the quiet.
Others of us are caught up in the rhythm of the noise,
embracing it and singing along with it,
as we jump on the train and ride to the next station.
* * * * * * *
I recently visited our local art museum where in one room they had a display of photos of trains. One particular photo caught my attention. It really appealed to me, and it inspired me to write the above poem.You can see the photo and read a little about it here. On the site, you can click on the photo to enlarge it and get a better view.
I looked at the photo that inspired your poem.ReplyDelete
How very clever you in the writing of this most delightful poem.
I thoroughly enjoyed it, Daisy.
something about the clack clack clack, or the whoosh of a train. I always loved riding the train into Philly for a special treat day. Your poem is lovely.ReplyDelete
I've always loved trains and you did a great job of bringing this to life. Awesome poem as usual. Hope you enjoy your day.ReplyDelete
I used to ride the train back and forth from Toronto ON to my home town Nova Scotia in the early 80'...it was my choice of travel at the time. I love the clacking noise and gentle bouncing... it put me right to sleep.ReplyDelete
Maybe I need to take a train ride...:-)
Such a great poem Daisy... it reminded me of those days. Thank you for your very kind and wonderful comments ♡
Good Morning, I love the poem. The photo you linked us to reminds me so much of life in the little city I grew up in. Your words really made the "photo" come to life. You are very gifted. Have a great day.ReplyDelete
Thank you everyone for the kind words. There is something magical about trains, I think, which was part of what I got out of the display at the art museum. They have their own special folklore. :)ReplyDelete
Have a great day, all!
Greetings from sunny Warsaw. Feel free to watch the new collection of photos in the album ‘Roses’ReplyDelete
Thank you, Marciento! :)Delete
There you are, doing what you do very well....writing those cute poems again! You know, I've never had the pleasure of riding a train!!!,ReplyDelete
Thank you, Dorothy! Maybe you and Jeep should plan a train trip. Might be fun! :-)Delete
Perfect words for me tonight, Daisy.. For you see, I love trains.. My Dad worked for the railroad --so I got to ride on the train a lot as a child. I would even go to work with Daddy sometime and get to ride on the old steam engines... Loved it --what fantastic memories...ReplyDelete
AND---besides my love for trains and my memories, I actually have a TRAIN BLOG ready to post on Thursday... SO--you see, I love your words today!!!!
I don't hear the old train whistles where I live now --but love that sound and miss it... When a passenger train passed nearby (when I was young), I would also wonder where those people were going...
Great post. Thanks.
Thank you, Betsy! I'm so glad you like this one. Sounds like it hit home for you. I'll look forward to reading your train blog. :-)Delete
Great train of thought despite the rattles & vibrations while waiting for the train without any disruption whatsoever. Nice.ReplyDelete
Thank you, Bananaz! :)Delete
Olá amiga,vim retribuir sua carinhosa visita ao meu cantinho.ReplyDelete
Realmente você é muito talentosa...a partir de uma foto de exposição, criar um lido poema!!!! Parabéns !!!!!!!!
Um doce abraço, Marie.
Thank you, Marie! Hope you are having a great day! :)Delete
Oh, and isn't that the truth? That some wait for the passing of the train, while others leap in?ReplyDelete
You did it again. you brought a picture to life with your words. I saved the pic that inspired you as it is a heartwarming pic of yesteryear and it reminded me of my home town.ReplyDelete
And yet some people don't even notice the train going by. With all that commotion, they're oblivious.ReplyDelete
You've taken us to another era, and I really appreciate the layers of meaning.
Lady Jane said it best! You brought back quiet, peaceful days when people looked forward to riding the train, as opposed to the hustle and bustle of rushing to get to work on time. Your poem really complements the photo!ReplyDelete
your poem captures the comfort of a train ride. And I agree with the others, the picture and your poem go together so well. Hugs Daisy. And wishes for a beautiful gentle Friday.ReplyDelete
Thank you everyone for the kind comments. I hope you all have a great weekend! :)ReplyDelete
Thank you, Marie! Have a wonderful day! :)ReplyDelete
Your poem is a perfect companion to that photograph. Great job!ReplyDelete
Remember the days when an overall-clad man would step out of his little shed beside the railroad tracks to stop traffic (like all one or two cars?) when a train was coming? And how a man would wave a lantern from the caboose? I still love the sound of a train whistle. Except for when I get stopped by a train coming through town and I'm on the way home with a trunkful of groceries, that is. Melting ice cream has no appreciation for a seventy-eight car train creeping by.
I don't remember the man stopping traffic, but I do remember we thought it was fun to wave at the man in the caboose. We used to always count the number of cars in the train too. Thanks, Susan! :)Delete
When I read your poem, Daisy, I actually thought of the photo shown in the link. I have seen it at the O Winston Link museum in Roanoke, VA during 2 visits there...as you know Grenville is a huge train fan. Link's ohotos are not to be missed.ReplyDelete
Beatrice, that is so cool that you have seen this photo before and knew which one I was writing about. Thank you for your comment. I'm sure that museum is wonderful.Delete
Wow, that is so cool - love the poem you wrote and enjoyed following the link and seeing the photo that inspired you! I was reminded of when my mother's dad -my grandpa of course, worked for the Railroad back in Kansas City - I use to love to go down to the switching yards. This poem just took me back to my little home town. Your poetry does what it's suppose to do - make one feel something - reclaim a memory or look toward a future unknown etc.ReplyDelete
Thank you, Sandy! I really appreciate your kind words. I'm glad this brought back some good memories for you. :-)Delete
Another sweet poem, Daisy! I've always loved the sense of civilzed adventure around trains travel.ReplyDelete
MWHAAAAA. I left a comment a while back and it looks like it didn't *take* Loved the poem because I enjoy trains so much. In a few weeks my 12-year old granddaughter and I are embarking on a cross-country train trip with a bedroom in a sleeper car. We will travel from KCMO through the southwest to LA where we will transfer to travel up the coast. We are so excited!ReplyDelete
Daisy, this is just wonderful. Love your words!ReplyDelete
It looks like my comment did not post either. I did enjoy the poem.ReplyDelete
Thank you all so much for your comments. I've been having a lot of trouble with Blogger losing my comments on other blogs too. Not sure what's up with that, but I hope they get it fixed soon. I appreciate the kind words from everyone. I hope you all are having a good weekend!ReplyDelete
Olá amiga, passei por aqui para desejar-lhe uma abençoada semana.ReplyDelete
Doce abraço Marie.
Thank you, Marie! :)Delete
What an interesting link. That train looks so close to where they are sitting. You'd painted the picture in my mind, before I saw the photo. But I didn't imagine the train to be so close. The museum looks nice to visit.ReplyDelete
Thank you, Lynne! I was surprised by how close the train was too. One of my grandmothers lived close to a train when I was little, but the train was across the street from her house. Even across the street, it made a lot of noise and shook the walls when it passed.Delete
I can see the people on the porch pausing to wait on the train to pass by- my grands (who love to talk) would just talk right on through the noise. You have a talent for telling stories with your poetry!ReplyDelete
Thank you, Terri! :-)Delete
Wow. I like the photo, but the picture your poem painted was prettier.ReplyDelete
But, I'm confused. I like these people, I like their world, I would like to know them.
But if I'm not mistaken, the last two lines of your poem seem to present two basic approaches to life, and the one that involves waiting for quiet so we can tell our own stories clearly seems to be the inferior one. Do I have this wrong? Did you just mean, there's a stage of life when we ride and a stage of life when we sit and talk?
Hi Jen, I don't think of either way as being inferior. I just meant that there is more than one way to approach life. One way is right for some while another way is right for others. Thanks for your comment. I'm glad you liked this poem. :)Delete