The Train

The train, Whistling, Whistling and coming, Seen far off, Coming nearer, The engine Seen, Entering The platform, A trail of smoke Arising from, Coal dust And aprticles Flying off, The shrill whistle Given And the train, Starign to go, Chugging On the rails With stone chips, Passing, Whistling And passing, Taking to Its recourse, Vanishing out, Speeding And going, Going And passing Out of sight, The guard Waving A green flag, I can hear The sound Still going, Taking recourse to, The men sitting Into the bogies, Faces unknown, Sliding And gliding by As the images With the bogies Dragged, pulled Shakingly.