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.


About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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