It was 3 am. He sat listening to the lonesome cry
Of a distant train echoing through the darkness
From somewhere far away. It made him think
Of a song he’d heard long ago on the radio
Whose melody and words he could still recall
As if tattooed in his mind. It spoke of love
Found in places where you wouldn’t expect
It to be, the shadows of near-empty bars,
The corners of dimly-lit cafes, the edges
Of the world where only its strangers dared
To go, seeking some quiet place to call their own,
Some place that seemed reserved just for them.
He never knew its name or singer, but the voice
Of the train brought it back to him, briefly,
With all of its wonder, before fading once again,
Back into the silent realm of the night.