Train Poem by Richard Betts

As a child, I often stood
On the platform at the station,
Watching as people rushed past
In muted desperation.

I could not comprehend
The frenetic actions and flurry.
I remember thinking, 'What is so vital
To demand such worry? '

Soon, I became a rider
And raced with everyone side-by-side.
We would push our way past the children,
Who stared with questioning eyes.

One day, I drove myself so fast
My speeding train derailed.
And I woke to find, when it came to love and friendship,
I had often fallen short or failed.

Emerging from the wreckage,
I gained a new perspective
And desired to do some soul-searching
And be more introspective.

I thought I was succeeding
By living life in such a hurry.
But where is the success
When everything becomes indistinct and blurry?

I asked myself this question,
And its answer became my key:
Was I rushing to manage my life,
Or was life managing to rush by me?

Now when you see me
And hear the familiar clickity-clack.
You'll know it is my train
Rolling slowly down the tracks.