The Atchison Topeka
The Atchison Topeka – midnight round
farm girl sleepin’ she hears the sound
slips into dreams, she’s the engineer
locomotive steams to a wild frontier
sails the prairie, rhythm of wheels
rails carry her through moonlit fields
sits on a pillow (she’s only ten)
sounds the whistle, “Here I am!”
Picks up passengers, knows them well
long time travelers, stories to tell
They stop at the top of the Rocky peaks
They talk all night but no one speaks
They heed the call of the mourning dove
the stars fall and the moon above
says it’s time to leave it’s a quarter to four
“Atchison Topeka – All aboard!”
The path is steep, darkness abides
passengers sleep, the girl their guide
Safely delivered from night afar
She sounds the whistle “Here they are!”
Sails the prairie big as the ocean
Rails carry her to arms opened
Her mother holds her “I love you dear”
Father says, “How’s my engineer?”
Throughout November I am writing a poem a day in an effort to raise money for The Center for New Americans, an organization that is located in Western Massachusetts and does great work in acclimating our new citizens to their new homes.
You may help by going here.
If you appreciate my efforts and my work please share.
Also, most of you know I am moving to Oregon at the end of the year. Before I leave I will bedoing two shows. Both will be in Amherst at the NACUL Center at 7:00 on November 30 and December 7. Proceeds will benefit The Center for New Americans.
A delightful poem.