Whistle and Clack

I love the sound of trains.

I imagine they carry away
all my sorrows;
the betrayals, lies, slights.

I imagine with every blow of the whistle
they pull out with my shadows.

I imagine as I hear the clackety-clack,
I gain strength and courage
to face today and new days to come.

Or, better yet,
I imagine they might carry me away,
because if I stay here,
history might repeat itself.

Either way,
I insist that I must think well
of those I used to know.