We lived just south
of railroad tracks,
wrong side of town.
The trains would come
all day and night
back in those days.
Their click and clank,
their tireless wheels
drummed in my brain.
And then, the wailing whistle screamed release twice,
a kid who held his breath too long.
And once again,
the trains moved on,
left me behind.
NaPoWriMo day 18 - sounds of my youth.