There Is No Signal Poem by Rahman Henry

The suburb. Small town.
The train station stands in the outskirts is
as brief as to go unnoticed.

There is no signal. The train waits
And sinks into soft buzz of the crowd
It’s nighttime, the constellations are flickering
dumb and deaf.

If eternity is a tree, the moments are fruits,
Ripe and falling on life that awaits.
In soft moonlight, dazzling water is dithering
In the distant town-buildings curtains are
moving in the wind.

There is no signal. The train waits endlessly