The train is now departing.

I watch the empty station,
Nothing sounds but the chirps of crickets,
And the whistle of the wind,
It is quiet up here in the mountains.

How strange, a man like me,
Would sit here,
In the middle of nowhere,
Waiting for the train,
That had fallen behind schedule.

My mother always used to say to me,
Always be on time,
You never know if you'll be late,
For the next upcoming train.

Now I'm no longer late,
Instead I'm early,
And the train is late,
Fallen behind just as the sun began to set.

I checked the worn out watch on my wrist,
The second hand ticking away,
My dull eyes draw away from the watch,
Scanning everywhere.

Was the scenery always this dull?
Did my life always seem this dull? Ordinary? Boring?
Funny, I never noticed,
Not with all the ringing in my head earlier.

Now it's just a buzz,
As I wait for the train,
My wife is waiting for me,
It has been a while since I have seen her.

What did her smile look like again?
It's been a while,
Why did everything look so gray now?
Has it always been like this?

Being secluded up here in the mountain,
Hm, ironically boring,
Compared to the screaming city life I once lived,
Now all I have to do is wait.

Ah, I can hear the clanking of the wheels against the tracks,
The whistle of the horn,
My train has finally arrived,
Now it's time for me to depart,
My love, I'm coming to you now,
To a better life,
A better world.

The train has departed.

A/N: Writing poems at 3 am is fun. As for what this poem is about, I'll let you guys figure it out.