Trains at Night

Bending and winding on their iron tracks
Trains wend their way; I sit back and relax
And try to find the signposts of the day.
Without them, where am I? I cannot say.
Outside I see the harsh electric light
Of sleepy houses scattered in the night.
The yellow moon is rising, and it shines
Through bare-branched trees and gloating, deep-green pines.
A student sleeps; behind her people talk
While tired commuters stumble as they walk.
I sit and write. While in the day I roam,
When the sun sets, I curl up and yearn for home.

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