Whispers of the Departing Train

Half knowing, half unknowing,

In a dim old city where night descends,

A weary soul treads the platform’s edge,

Leaving behind its silent, tender prints.

Through the corridor of a lonely train,

Steps echo softly — proud, unseen.

Dreams drift alone, through windows wide,

Where distant lights begin to gleam.

Across the glass, faraway smiles

Fade into the folds of time —

And from that vanishing skyline glows

A fleeting face, a fragile rhyme.

If all my dreams should stop midway,

If all my thoughts turn into shade,

I’ll still touch the memories that stayed,

The streets I left — yet never strayed.