Strangers On A Train Poem by John F. McCullagh

I boarded the train a long time ago, back East,
in the company of good friends.
We had good times on our journey.
Those days were invariably pleasant.
I recall bright sun and skies, mostly, blue
At each stop along the way there were
some exits and entrances.
At first they did not touch me.
Then;
I remember this most painfully-
The day you told me that we had reached your station.
That place where you could accompany me no more.

My surviving companions did what they could to console me.
The train proceeded determinedly west.
The terrain was mostly flat, the skies now grey and wet.
We knew that the Mountains loomed ahead;
massively real; to us passengers yet unseen.
We traveled the rails laid down by others' hands.
We passed through snow-capped peaks
through darkness into the light.

I have had a wondrous journey.
But, excuse me friends, my stop is just ahead.
I step out to a golden promised land.