On a journey always looking forwards
Peering, searching for the signal
That means my life’s on track.
Hauling heavy trucks of guilt
Bound for a choice of destinations
One white, the other black.
I’ve had the odd derailment
And often found the grade too steep.
Yet my faithful fireman mate
Kept shovelling all the same.
Sweating, straining, never complaining,
Pausing briefly, she wiped her sweat-soaked brow.
I just held the throttle open wide
And calling urged her on.
Peering through uncertain darkness,
Station’s rest must surely come.
But now I see the buffers up ahead
That ends this life of mine.
No loop of life, no circular tour.
Only an urgent message flashing.
‘This is the end of the line.’