I was alone watching
a thousand trains leave
a thousand platforms behind.
Caught in a storm, whistling
a furious tune
in curious concert
with my mind.
Leaves fell far from fall.
Grass lost its spring.
A parched, picket fence bawled
beside a rose-less bushes' sting.
Amidst all this
a rusted swing swayed
without cause,
beside the murderous perch of
crows and their 'caws';
atop a gazebo
that someone stopped painting long ago;
waiting for the return of a sun
that was somewhere beyond
too many grey skies to care.
And I remember just standing there,
beside an empty railroad track,
hoping that final sigh that escaped me
might bring you back.

© Gerry Mattia 2024
© “Patio Poetry” 2000 - 2024