Within heat’s sultry dress
Shade and rustling leaves sigh
Life is moving on
I don’t prefer brunette to blonde –
An arbitrary choice
The attribute my radar seeks
A mellifluous voice
But time plays tricks as we both know
Upon the affectionate ear
For every time my true love speaks
It’s magic that I hear
Trains are for young boys
that put an ear down to the track
and can hear the vibration of the coming
train from miles away.
Boys who set pennies on the tracks
then stand back and hold their ears
as cha-thunk, cha-thunk, cha-thunk
the cars roll by behind the roaring engine.
Afterwards, they stroll along the track
looking between the ties, among the stones
trying to find the magic talismans
the pennies have become.
Trains are for young men
who dream beyond the factories and small towns
of places far away and adventures
and songs yet to be sung.
They’re walking across the trestle bridge
convinced you can drop down between the ties
holding life like a movie hero should a train approach
and at the last step, more alive than ever.
Trains are for old men
When the factories have stopped
and the trains no longer come
memories of places far away and adventures
never to be sung.
I cannot explain quantum entanglement
Or the unified theorem Einstein sought
But I know each day brings a chance to be
Good, honorable, just
Though I will fail over and over again.
Pascal wagered we have a soul
and to live as though the ends
justify the means is not for me.
Someone once left a pebble of kindness in my path,
Perhaps one day I’ll be able to pass it on.