She waits where iron pathways meet,
Among the rhythm of wheels and heat,
A book in hand, a gaze afar,
A soul in motion like the car.
The train arrives, the whistle sighs,
Steel heart beating 'neath open skies,
She boards with steps both sure and light,
A shadow passing morning's light.
Window seat, her traveling throne,
A world of strangers, yet alone,
Mountains, towns, and rivers flow,
She watches life in reel and glow.
Ink-stained fingers, dream-filled mind,
A heart untethered, unconfined,
The train may stop — she never will,
A wanderer with time to fill.
She’s not just going — she’s becoming,
In tracks and turns, there's something coming.
The girl on trains the world might miss,
Is writing life in moments like this.
About the Creator
Israr khan
I write to bring attention to the voices and faces of the missing, the unheard, and the forgotten. , — raising awareness, sparking hope, and keeping the search alive. Every person has a story. Every story deserves to be told.
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