Every evening at the same time it passes. Every time you’re home you hear it.
It’s whistle, it’s click clack on the tracks calls to you, the train on the tracks so close by, yet going who knows where. It sparks a wanderlust in your heart and in your soul every single time.
You want to time it, be next to the tracks at the right time and hop on.
Do hobos still ride the rails?
You want to find out, brave the heat, the cold, the wind, and see.
See what? What are you searching for?
The land, so much of which few else shall ever see. The destination doesn’t even matter so much be it west coast or somewhere in the middle.
You simply want to explore. Get out of here and do more.
You hear the whistle blowing. That opportunity is now past.
What shall be of tommorow?
-J