The Caring Train Driver

Space moves and time ticks,
Oxygen is breathed.
The driver’s jolly,
Whistling with the train.
Till the rocking stops,
Peaceful he’ll remain,
But when, and it shall,
He’ll feel bereaved.
Taken from his life:
A happy notion.
Emptied from his cup:
Warm locomotion.
How’s’t fair toward him
Who’s always believed?
The train’s not his own;
Simply in his care.
But to have something!
Alive and aware;
This is far better
Than could be conceived.

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