"The Last Train" is a poem that my grandfather wrote shortly before he passed away. It is found in his book, Leola's Mountain.
The Last Train
"The steel tracks yonder lay meandering from hill to bay
What train travels this line ask I a man of hair like snow
His faded eyes looked into mine, my son you should know
This train is always on time, whether you board is for you to decide
Don't be mislead by ill winds for on it few will ride
I wondered at his saying this man of snow white hair
This road of shimmering steel under the iron wheels
Secure your ticket in advance said he of snow
There is no second chance, prepare for the price to pay
There's no backing on this road, the train travels one way
Never slowing for crossings no matter what the load
At the crossings all will surely come right or wrong
Listen quietly and hear the rails whisper gently and still
The engineer sounds the whistle two shorts and a long
Warning of life's struggles, temptations bending the will
Ponder awhile at the crossroads, you have a choice
Ignore the barriers is to swim the deep and murky unknown
Arriving at the station too late, no reason to rejoice
Climb aboard this train of destination you are shown
The engineer is at the controls, the throttle on full
Life's grinding wheels of steel spin for the long pull
Everything is fulfilled, this train runs on time
Let the night whistle moan in the distances of neglect
The books are kept and balances made to much regret
Life is not a promise said he of the snow-white crown
Living is an obligation, tasks to mend, never to offend
The earth is plowed, the seeds long in the ground
The engineer is the conductor his hands in control
Forget life's hurt and pains for this train is on a roll
Steel rails yonder the horizons past, into the blue sky
Iron wheels turning for the long goodbye."
@Jack Payne Jones
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