The Journey

So cold it felt moving on my face,
it dried the sweat in its old long pace;
at afternoon in May the sun was harsh,
I sat there tempted by moments of marsh .

The thud then began and so strong it was,
thudding it came and blew the pause,
the steel on steel marching it past,
and gutting the weight it slowed at last.

As snail it moved and stopped so far,
we got up then and went at par,
the pastel in film with khaki and yellow,
it was standing on gauge, known narrow.

The people in red helped us good,
with badges of steel on their arm it stood,
and some so old but walked to earn,
with years of wrinkles and wisdom they yearned.

Another cool breeze it came from behind,
and threw my hair on the face to unwind,
I managed my hair and turned to side
to see a man with a limb denied.

But he was brave and walked with one
with luggage and heart more than human.
The steel on roof, the pillar and track,
it took the weight of trust on its back.

The clouds of steam it came with a whistle,
tearing from the announcements to throttle.
Man and women, children and old,
people were waiting for something untold.

It was one's life and story that began,
no one had asked for this plan.
I came from you and will hence continue
to make this tale, which will renew.

The boy to wall with rags he sat,
with puppies as friends and one as cat.
Then holding my hands I was taken inside,
with isle of people so restless inside.

We found our place to take ride,
but, i like the smell of life outside.
Now their i go, with the train,
hoping these days would come again.