The Train Hooted
The dark train hurtled head on,
in the star-studded night
to its projected destination.
The train hooted.
Sometimes it slowed
as a solitary station passed by.
Sometimes it flew
even though the lines were crossed.
The train hooted.
Clickety clack, Clickety clack.
The hoot hooted in delight
as peaks of ecstasy were reached.
Until the train arrived. Smoke ejected,
engine slowed to a stop.
But I assure you, my love,
the journey would have been no fun
had you not been with me.
7 January 2021
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