By Crispulo Bacud Tappa
The old man heard the call,
trumpeted to one and all.
The last departing train rolls
as stars appear when night falls.
Citizens scurried around,
inched their way to the platform.
Some laden with heavy loads,
the old man in dapper clothes,
came with just nothing,
for a last trip that was foretold.
The last train rolled by,
almost full to its brim,
hooted for everyone to hear.
The old puny man edged-in,
not wanting to be left behind,
Travellers with heavy loads,
with no space big enough
for their worldly finds,
remorsefully trundled back,
missing this one last train,
bound for its destination
where the last train stops,
on its last trip as God ordained,
where trumpets blared,
and a choir of angels
sang a glorious welcome song.
January 29, 2019
💐💐💐
