Five twenty two a.m.

And the townsfolk

Collectively roll over

In their beds,

Fluff the pillows

And snuggle back down

Into their blankets

As the train passes through

With a rumble and a whistle

And more whistles at street crossings

In the half light of dawn

And a little while passes until

The birds start singing

Eight fifty eight p.m.

And final prayers

Are said before

Closing the casket

The night before his funeral

The family collectively

Exhales

Thinking of his model trains

Now at rest in his basement

Tracks laid out with scenery

And miniature village buildings

The family collectively

Inhales

As the train passes through

With a rumble and a whistle

And more whistles at street crossings

In the half light of dusk

And a little while passes until

The birds stop singing

~~

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 4, 2016