O Iron Train,
You, who are a part of me.
Strong as steel,
Stopping at every station.
Weary travelers, cold and worn,
Passing figures—men and women alike.
Iron train, a crowded carriage,
People bound by the weight of falsehoods.
An iron train with no windows,
All rushing toward a single view.
All thirsty for a drop of kindness in silence,
All exhausted, lost in the dark.
Your benches, made of plastic,
Passengers surrender themselves to the shadows.
Your benches, painted blue,
A crowd overflowing with fleeting glances.
A fleeting moment to claim an empty seat,
Or steal a glance into a stranger’s world.
O Iron Train,
You, who are a part of me.