Off in the distance
a haunting train whistle blows
in the sullen early morning fog
that sat the night
and now blankets the slow rising sun
The train whistle, this foggy morning
hovers in that place inside–
that place holding your deepest loneliness
That place hope surrenders
That place you go–
when real tears fall
Listen to what haunts you
Hear its voice, know its name
For it will call again
It will find you as you sleep
like that haunting train whistle
breaking the early morning fog
Poetic Alchemist 
Floots: Thank you and glad this little poem helps you refind your place.
Andrew: Thanks. What a neat thing that you can hear trains and riverboats. The sounds of both move us.
so evocative don
i love trains
and
spend a lot of time in “that place”
cheers
I love this!! I hear trains and river boats each night,
Dan: Thanks. You’re right. Damn it. Wish I wasn’t so lazy…
Get yourself a guitar and take some lessons. You’ve got plenty of free time, right?
Kai: Thanks. Glad you enjoyed this one.
wonderful
Polona: Thanks. Glad you enjoyed this one. This one kind of punches us in the gut just a little.
Dan: Thanks. You’re the musical guy. Help me!!!!!! LOL
i know that place…
beautifully done!
You know, Don, you ought to ponder setting some of these poems to music…
Kristi: Thanks. It is both a train and the sun at the end of the tinnel. LOL.
Nice, I like it! Thanks for sharing…