Railroad Station photo taken by J. Nowinski
When he was a little boy,
My husband thought it would be a joy.
To sit on the train and watch the sights,
He could hear the whistle and see the blinking lights.
He rides the train every day.
He works and then he gets his pay.
Winter, spring, summer, and fall.
He takes the train to the mall.
The conductor punches his ticket.
The punch sounds like a cricket.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack goes the wheels.
The commuter train serves no meals.
The people sit and then they stand.
At their stop, they all disband.
His train pulls into Union Station.
It is one of the busiest in the nation.
Work, work, work, all day long,
When it is over he joins the throng
Back to the train is where they head,
They go towards home and to their beds.
My husband enjoys riding the train.
Personally, I think he is insane.
Railroad Sign photo taken by J. Nowinski
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