He stepped haltingly over stones and debris
while descending the hill that abutted the tracks.
The steel rails seemed to vanish into the earth
just a short distance beyond where he stood.

The ruins of a station arched high into the pulsing sun;
casting uneven patterns of light upon its dark interiors.
While crossing the threshold of a large stately room,
he thought he heard a whistle blowing.

Once adorned but now decayed walls enveloped his thoughts
as tall weeds tapped gently against a cracked window.
He rested in front of his reflection in the dusty pane;
weary from the journey and warm from the sun.

Gazing intently into the face before him,
he saw the changes that had taken place.
His hands began to tremble and his breath began to seize
as he recalled the promise of his youth.

He awoke from several hours of restless sleep
on a long wooden bench in the waiting room.
While confessing the obsessions that possessed him,
he realized that a destination had to be chosen.

His eyes became fixed on the remains of a wine bottle;
its leftover bounty having long been dried by time.
The sharp jagged edges reminded him of church steeples
as he tightly cupped its base in his hands.

Rumbling sounds had become ever louder;
so he returned outside by the tracks.
Smiling broadly, he plunged aboard
before the darkness surrounded him again.