He longs to be a writer
And pours out streams of ink
But it looks like another all-nighter
Just to stay at poverty’s brink
And as he heads off to work in the cold October rain
He hears the whistle of the 9 o’clock train
Remember that kid from high school
There was nothing he couldn’t do
We all thought he was so cool
Till they found him stiff and blue
And as that final rush fatally flowed through his vein
He heard the whistle of the 9 o’clock train
Every night the train goes by
While letting loose that lonesome cry
Its single headlight brightly gleams
As people chase their crazy dreams
The couple that wanted a baby
And tried for many years
Never knew how happy they’d be
When filling up their ears
With their child’s cries which was worth every ounce of pain
And the whistle of the 9 o’clock train
4 comments:
A terrific story in four stanzas, Bob. I love the train as anchor for each, linking dissonant but equally challenging scenarios. And your rhyme scheme, with the change of cadence in stanza three, give life to the tale.
Bob,
A very powerful piece of writing, which could easily apply to life at 9pm in any train station, in any major city. The story of life, time and the passings...
Eileen
Thank you Bob, for your kind comment and goodwill message at my Blog. I appreciate your visit. Eileen :)
Wow! All this needs is a catchy little tune. And, I'm sure you have one... let's hear it! :)
Definitely song lyrics now to write the music.
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