The Last Train Poem by Allan James Saywell
The Last Train
The Poet sat at table
He was from the old school
His Pen was poised
Waiting for a Train of thought
The carriage lay empty
The track lay bare
In the midday Sun
He smiled as he stroked the page
With vivid thoughts
Of former love
In the year
Two thousand and twelve
On Valentine day
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: school,valentine
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8/28/2026 4:21:41 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
