For thirty nine years we lived… In a house along the tracks
Listening to the lonesome whistles … And the wheels go click a dee clack.
The first sounds of the morning… The last sound heard at night
Sometimes the windows rattled … Causing our visitors fright.
The lonesome whistle has become… A pleasant memory
Lingering in our minds… Forever, I am sure it will be.
It is easy now to close my eyes… Recalling the well known sounds
Of those all too many trains… That rolled through our little town.
For years the sound from our Television …Was to often drowned out
And a casual conversation… Soon - resorted to a loud shout.
Still those old trains… Became a way of life
And sometimes I think I hear them … In the late hours of the night.
So many memories made there… In the house along the tracks
And still we miss the sound… Of the wheels that go click a dee clack.
Mintie Lue Butler…8-19-2006
  
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