There is a magic in the sound
Of wailing distant trains,
That calls the traveller in me
Back to far off lands.
The sight of airplanes' blinking lights
In the clear night sky
Takes me back to lands I've known
Where long-lost lovers lie.
I remember and I dream
As I walk alone.
But as the autumn chill draws in
I'm glad I'm going home.
©2003 Jane Walsh Foster. .