Roll

The train rolls north
Up the West Coast
The waves roll in
Across sandy beaches,
The flowers roll over
The hillsides,
All mile after mile
Shaking to and fro
As I sit in the dining
Car sipping hot tea
Watching spring
Turn back to winter
As the train rolls north
Wailing a mournful
Whistle at passing
Traffic watching
Us go by lights
In windows
Folks like
Icons
Slowly
Roll along,
You can hear
Us pass near your
Place choo
Chooing
As dusk turns
To dark clackating
Along at a pace
From long ago
Anachronism
On iron wheels.
Though, trains
Seldom fall
Out of the
Sky.