Through a world prism shine
of a moment glass divine,
looking out from the train
sweeping on past driving rain,
to move in motion,
swim in lotion,
past fields in flower,
spiral tower,
on the ever nostalgic train
noise arise to deaden the brain.
Yellow train dash on sight
through wild tempest and the night,
one of the company died in vain
yet none could speak to tell his name,
yellow train wheels on rails
of an old worn track rusty trails,
days in simple seconds fly
like to the sound of a babies cry,
and still in truth not shown
we strive to live alone,
people of fate not found
press forward to the unknown bound.
To scan clouded skies
for signs of life,
running the world always
by law of knife,
hoping each day
will bring forgetful peace,
but never trying
to make war cease.
Yellow train runs on might
into winds of unknown plight,
the long pursuit of a road
that leads to glory with a load,
mirror reversal shows a lie
world of no avail to wishful cry,
yellow train glides on its way
seeks the whim for a brand new day.
Richard Allen Beevor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/yellow-train/
