lonesome train

sorting from cardboard boxes
not much to pack
last look around, a check of the time
then closing the door
locking sadness within

going home before the weather changes
the fields . . . he liked the rain
there's time to reflect
while watching dark clouds out the window

heavy steel rolls hard and smooth
and before the long night is through
i may see the moon
glide over town, yes
soon, real soon

a guy with an apron, a little blue hat
and a smile comes pushing a cart
down the isle
selling coffee and water
the same guy a half hour ago
was selling sandwiches

roses bloom in the rain
love is the same
nothing ventured, nothing gained
you can say that again
watching it rain

i hear her sweet laugh
while handing me a photograph
the moon rising through the glass
reflects on her behalf

she's painted and she's pretty
pressed against the window pane
the lady from Kansas City
takes my mind off everything
she can ride with me any time
on any old lonesome train