Poem By sal carter
The tracks scream out beneath the train.
Calling out to fleeing souls.
The hurt that rings in their refrain.
Reflects the pain of a thousand words
Within the carriage, rocks and bucks,
A thousand stories yet untold,
Of different lives and different luck
Their endings waiting to unfold.
An old man chew’s a brown cigar,
Spewed out smoke hangs, rank and stale
At a glance he seems contented here,
His dark eyes spin another tale.
A young girl holds a crying head,
Her bare hands clasped, white and cold,
A carriage full of those not dead,
Still hanging on to this greying world.
This place between our here and there,
This place where none will ever stay
This place that moves without a care
Carrying lives to darker days.
Moving on, and soon be gone,
So many lives, so many roads,
To find a way to carry on
Moving on, keep moving on,
And those who fall, beside the road,
Are left to groan and die down here,
And no-one hears a silent moan,
The dead alone, with pain and fear.
Outside the windows of the train,
Are mountains, hills and towns to roam
The streets that hide men from the rain
Are no-ones home, Are no-ones home.