Cannot remember when I first heard it.
Do know I was young at the time.
That old train whistle and its allure.
Home was not the best for me.
Rules I was not prepared to follow.
One morning packed a knapsack
before dawn started walking the rails.
Found a still train and joined the cargo.
At every stop, jumped to another boxcar,
never really knowing what direction
that the old train would go.
Happy to see the landscape.
Take in the beautiful of all terrains.
The people I have met
have always been so nice.
Fellow train-hoppers like me.
They were looking for missed adventure
or running away or both.
Stories were freely shared
as the land went by.
Sometimes late at night
I wonder about the family
that I left behind.
Think to myself
if I turned out
the way my mother thought I would
or my glaring absence
frightened my father like I used too.
They have not heard of me
since I left them a note.
As time has gone by
there are not as many trains to ride
however I can always find one.
The people you see are less and less.
The rail-runners are a dying breed.
Have accepted my day will end out here.
I have lived how I wanted too.
Until that day
will go wherever the train whistle blows.
August 22, 2020
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020