My Train

My train flies on and on,
Past evening, noon and dawn.
I can’t get off once I’ve got on.

I don’t remember buying the ticket.
No one asked if I could pick it.
Asking is a sticky wicket.

The conductor shows no sympathy.
He says that what will be, will be.
He says that none aboard are free.

I fly along the open track
Where looking forward is looking back
To loves I’ve had and loves I lack.

My train flies on and on.
I only know where it has gone;
And I’m alone, but not alone.

trapped in time