Train of Life

One way train full of folks chugs along
I was a day old when it pulled out
of my birth place so long ago
Wrinkles in the mirror tell me
I have been travelling for years

There are no scheduled stops on the way
It will unepectedly pause
so a newborn baby will get on
gingerly placed in its mother's lap
to start the long journey through strange landscape

Mom is suddenly sick enough
to end her trip as the caboose halts
long enough for mourners to wave googby
Surviving passengers resume their trek
until the train of live stops for me

so I leave for my final resting place


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Last stanza, last line: 'live' should be 'life' // BHS
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Good poem. googye kind of spoils it. typo of course. Another word than "Mom" seems better. "Mom" makes me think of the mother of the baby. "Life" not "live" and do you really need the very last line of the poem? My suggestions in no way mean that I do not lie this. I do.
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Sorry. I see you already corrected "live" to "life." I like the idea of the train. That's how I feel sometimes. Life just gets faster and faster and it's almost like the train is out of control and will crash, or, when it stops for me. where will I be? Will others be there too? etc. etc. I often wonder "how" i will die. not much control there I guess. not much choice. the doctor's office is where you buy the ticket, the hospital is where you get on board, the last lap of the trip. Barring all hatasropies, sp? lol, say one is in a hospital bed, how does one die? As one doctor said, "there are not rules."
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I like your analysis of the poem and inner thoughts it conjured up. Thanks for the 'googby' typo (3rd stanza, 3rd line)--should be 'goodbye' // BHS
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I like your analagy with this poem. Riding on a rocking train through different terrains. Sometimes it will be smooth and flat, or at other times we may be consumed by the darkness and uncertainty of the tunnel. I like the imagry of the caboose halting to let of the passenger and all aboard waving farewell. Lori S. Maynard
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Good points, Lori. Lots happen in life. We forget it keepes moving on like a train. One day we look at the mirrored window and say: "So many years of travel!". Nice of you to share your vantage point // BHS
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Speaking of "mirror", in that one line, you wouldn't really need the word, "wrinkles"-i.e.,just, my mirror tells me I have years.
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Very good point about the mirror. Thank you // BHS
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Sept. 7 completion