Story
       

A big train is coming
for the little boy
who is an old man
and I am holding his hand.
When is it coming?
I can't tell you, little boy,
but look and you'll see
a great black shiny train,
steam rushing from it.
My father sits in his chair
in the cold dark parlor.
Oh tell me, he asks
what time is the train
and what should I do?
Oh dear one, I don't know.
Look out the window,
there's a moon on the snow.
When the train comes,
you'll see the light.
I'm not coming with you
but I'll hold you tight.

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Copyright © 2012 Honor Moore All rights reserved
from Harvard Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission