Symphony of sounds playing my name through the winding cabs and trains,
Flashing of lights displaying a scene,
Depicting of bodily relapses,
Abstractions no less a sense of pure satisfaction.
Changing in seasons happens so often...
Noticeable to the ones that notice.
Can not help but stop and wonder,
Seeing those sites and sounds,
Everlasting curiosity embarking.
Train tracks flowing seamlessly like rushing water a simple creation of a babbling Brooke.
Continuously flow never-ending and singing high and lows,
The sound of a train,
Ding,
Ding,
Departing,
Your ever quick,
Morning, afternoon wake up call.
Escaping the quickness of the ever=present wind...
Passing by the b-trees...slowly and steady again whispering my name.
The smells teasing my senses...just another distraction,
Towering figures swaying easily,
Staring effortlessly and hopelessly into the light,
Hearing my name being called,
Not close and far beyond reach.
Just listen...
