Lonely heart of Seymour Street

Image by iamjon* via Flickr

You  left on a long silver teardrop as the train pulled away from the station. It isn’t the way I wanted to see you go, but there was no choice. The old year was leaving and you had to leave with it. You thought I couldn’t hear you as the train whistle began to blow. You thought that the silver silence of your tears would be carried away bu the engines roar as you drove away.

You thought we didn’t love you. That you didn’t belong on the train. Crazy ride and it is free. Crazy ride and it’s free.

The priest woke slowly, wondering where you had gone. He saw the tissue paper lying still, on the floor and he asked no questions. He didn’t need to as he could see the look in my eyes.

Hearts broken, mended,reunited.

What highway took you away? Which highway will bring you back?

The New year came and in its growing eddy, I know you are being carried in its wake. Hold on. It’s all I can ask of you, of them; to hold on for awhile longer until my train slows to a crawl at midnight. You will know where to find me. I am here,waiting.

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