The Last Train
By Jdr
The train stops at the station, beneath a mountain torn sky. October chill rushes through, the hot July of you and I. A new moon rises high. And the center of life breathes- life into foreign lungs. Accepted as a breeze. All our questions unanswered. And all our dreams unmet. The last train leaves the station. Leaving no doubt, nor regret Written March 20th, 2002 © on Mar 19 2002 04:14 PM PST 0 • 12
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"The train stops at the station,..."