TRAIN DREAMS WEAVING

I hear a haunting sound, a distant train,
as I drift in and out of timeless dreams.
Its song is woven through the years gone by,
a gift of memories from long ago.
 
As I drift in and out of timeless dreams
a muffled whistle whines out of the dusk,  
a gift of memories from long ago,
reverberating deep into the night.

A muffled whistle whines out of the dusk.
The chatter on the rails becomes a hum,
reverberating deep into the night,
then leaves a silence lying in its wake.

The chatter on the rails becomes a hum
with distant ebb and flow of crying horn,
then leaves a silence lying in its wake
as I float gently in and out of sleep.

With distant ebb and flow of crying horn
at dawn, I hear a pounding on the rails.
As I float gently in and out of sleep
I waken to the building of a roar.

At dawn I hear a pounding on the rails.
Its song is woven through the years gone by.
I waken to the building of a roar.
I hear a haunting sound, a distant train.

(a pantoum)

© 1996 Anne Johnson