Showing posts from May, 2020

A Poem For When Standing Still is Hard

Travel The railroad track is miles away,  And the day is loud with voices speaking,  Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day  But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn’t a train goes by,  Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,  But I see its cinders red on the sky,  And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with friends I make,  And better friends I’ll not be knowing;  Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,  No matter where it’s going.                                                                            Edna St. Vincent Millay