The Night Train

Sometimes when I lie awake
and hear the piercing whistle, 
the night seems blacker,

the desolation of sorrow 
greater. I think of loneliness 
and the vast coldness that can

separate people. These thoughts 
spin like a child pedaling
a tricycle in endless 

circles. Then the train rumbles 
away and the deep silence 
returns. I hear her breathing, 

its peaceful, calming rhythm. 
The space of melancholy grows 
smaller and the spinning stops.

I think of the train reaching 
the next town, I embrace love and hope, 
and remember how fortunate I am.

Published in Verse-Virtual, January 2018

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