The Signalman

The trains they’ve come and gone.

They travel here and there, no more.

The journey’s end has quickly come

from scenes that slowly went before.

The stations passed of births and deaths

and of other times remembered,

seem distant now, but are as real

to us all around assembled.

His lines and points were straight and true,

showing others where to follow.

Today we stop and think of him,

to then journey on tomorrow.

As while we wait and ponder on

the source of our direction,

the signalman, gives us his way,

our joyful recollection.

x

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
This entry was posted in Poem and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s