He was an old man who haunted junctions.
About eighty-five years old, smelling of old cologne and gin.
He carried a pocket watch of his long lost love.
She passed in ’54 at a transit stop.
He said “No matter where I run, I just see my baby’s eyes.
But this train just goes on as I dance with her ghost tonight.
Until the end of time.”
After he said this he slowly rubbed his chin,
As his stop came up he slowly exited.
But right before he left he turned frozen cold and said,
“Many trains before have rolled down these tracks.”
Breath you are thy guide,
my lighthouse in anxious seas,
lead this ship to shore.
I can test my will
from the mirror every day,
by just smiling.
I am inspired
by my soulful heart's yearing
which beats every day.