How I hate that mournful whistle
Just like a night train leaving
Now echoing though my mind
Of the day that you left me
With words that were so unkind
Life's full of broken promises
That gnaw at our grieving souls
Doubts right from the very start
Ringing in my fuddled brain
Since the days we've been apart
But wheels must keep turning
As fall turns to wintertime
With footprints in the cold snow
I'll cut those threads of longing
For your touch that set me all aglow
Image found at www.dreamstime.com
One of the most mournful sounds of all, I always thought, a train whistle in the night – and yes, the turn of the wheels had a sort of inexorability. You bring back memories!
ReplyDeleteThat departing night train image is so poignant here...
ReplyDelete"Life's full of broken promises"...So true. I like the images of footprint in cold snow...
ReplyDeletedeparture cuts deep here
ReplyDeleteAnother touching write Old Egg
ReplyDeleteWheels really must keep turning, for soon it will be spring.
ReplyDeleteClick to visit Keith's Ramblings
Indeed there is something about the sound of that train whistle...the sadness, the longing for what was!
ReplyDeleteAt Line One you set the tone, the pace the mood, vividly
ReplyDelete"How I hate that mournful whistle"
Happy Fathers Day
much love...
A poem that takes us all to the same place as the poet is a very fine poem indeed, my friend!
ReplyDeleteYour words are as plaintive as the midnight wail of a passing train. The analogy is perfect. Good write.
ReplyDeleteI always forget that sense of winter when we have summer... but maybe when forlorn there will be snowdrift deep inside.
ReplyDeleteThat train whistle set a beautiful poem filled with longing. And yes, the release touch can bring. Lovely work.
ReplyDeleteLife's full of broken promises
ReplyDeleteThat gnaw at our grieving souls
This is so poignant and true! But as life goes on we realize that everything happens for a reason, that it was just the way it was meant to be.. and thus wisdom approaches.
I can hear that mournful whistle...
ReplyDeleteSometimes, cutting all ties is the only solution... even if it hurts so much.
ReplyDeleteTrain whistles and the sound of those wheels chugging down the track ... nothing says 'gone' like that sound. Wonderful capture.
ReplyDeleteI'll cut those threads of longing
ReplyDeleteFor your touch that set me all aglow
How one longs for the wonderful warmth of a loved one! Hank always gets a nice feeling reading your poems, Robin!
Hank
Is cutting the threads of longing really so easy, I wonder.
ReplyDeletePromises are glass-like; when broken open razor-sharp edges-- hurt.
ReplyDeleteWe, poetic friends, can heal!
Nice piece.
You have created the winter gloom atmosphere with the sadness of the night train whistle. Well done.
ReplyDeleteShe's gone everywhere but home. Chucka chucka.
ReplyDeleteIf he doesn't heed it, he will get deaded! :)
ReplyDelete