By D.C. Young
I still recall how long ago
upon a Christmas Day,
Santa left a set of trains
he’d brought me in his sleigh.
The train comprised of seven cars
would race around the track,
Pulled by a coal black engine
with a red caboose in back.
All through my youth for years on end
I drove that mighty train,
Through autumn winds and winter snow
and spring and summer rain.
But then one day a new toy came
and I just walked away,
Forgetting as my dearest friend
sat waiting every day.
And as the days turned into years
it’s shine was lost to dust,
And in the cold and dampened air
the tracks then turned to rust.
It seems I meant so many times
to once again go back,
forgetting that my oldest friend
sat waiting on the track.
Now somewhere lost in yesterday
I sit and wonder why,
I walked out on my dearest friend
yet never said goodbye.
