Aboard the long train,
That goes across the continent,
Above the wooden track.
Passengers on cracked leather seats,
Along the mountainous way,
Chat about the news.
Down the stairs, they debark,
Onto the old platform.
After most have left,
All on his own,
A little boy in raggedy clothing,
Looks forlorn, against the wall.
Who is this boy,
Without a mentor?
Left behind the crowd,
The boy was forgotten.
Within their hearts,
And everything concerning the child.
Throughout the ages,
He was commonly seen.
But now, they have lost total sight.
Open mouths prompt his leaving.
Wordless, few are able to welcome him back
With their silence.
Before a decade
Goes past this generation
I hope that he is remembered
And we embrace him.
