The wheels clack and moan./
The coaches bend and sway./
The rails sing along/
to the song of the railway.
You glimpse into hidden back yards;/
junk noone wants you to see./
Ripped apart trash and old cars./
Back-porch sitters, lonely.
Then scenery opens to your view/
that noone else appreciates./
Beaches, marshes, prairies too./
Mountain vistas, sunset lakes.
A new perspective is yours to gain,
to ponder and enjoy when you ride the train.
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 
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