Clickety clack go the wheels, along an endless track,
And the whistle sounds forlorn, in a night so black.
I gaze at glimmering stars, and pearly moon hung low,
And I'm lulled to peaceful slumber, by motion here below.
When gay sunshine once again, greets a rosy countryside,
I am feeling the warmth, though just along for the ride,
Meditating on memories, floating by like summer breeze,
Looking forward and behind, past fleeing emerald trees!
Does it matter even a little, whatever has been said?
Should it matter too much, if royal blue skies grow red?
Colorful flowers dance wildly, past my line of vision,
And like all joyous things, call to hearts that listen!