Train of Thought

I could hear the whistle,
drawn and drowning out the tweets,
the cars and rustling of leaves.

In winter you’re the loudest,
The snowflakes shift soundlessly,
sidewalks glisten under street lamps glow.
Still, you’re all that’s heard.

Tucking under heating blankets
and a pillow person’s arms,
I’m in my little nest.

I enjoy all that’s silent
and what’s crashing down into sound waves.

Train whistles hold more than their warnings.
They hold memories of carefree days.
They hold the tender joy of canceled school days
and sleeping in.

They hold long walks and bike rides,
stopping by Hefron’s to get a 50¢ Brisk tea.

Train whistles hold sentimental value
and the best of memories for me.