Let pass this and that…

Sometimes you let pass

Your last train to freedom

And you hear

A passionate song of being no one.

You, one lonesome passer,

In your journey to nowhere,

Scuttle for a cancelled waiting

 Grieving the fate of

Letting pass this and that.

The departing train’s

Blowing whistle

Blurs your road

To freedom

To love

To security

To the travelogue called life.