The train horn that is blaring in a distance is of such urgency not a soul could miss it,

The foggy lights racing up the track in the dead of the night,

I watch as I drink my warm, stale, Bud light.

The horn blaring sounds so old,

The coldness in the air doesn’t make much of a difference,

But the bare trees and snow beneath me seem to make the train horn seem so close, yet distant.

I remember when I tried to take away, the pain and sorrow I felt one day, the horn was enough to

make a sane person go insane.

The train is getting closer and the horn louder,

I’m peeking with squinted eyes to see what’s the matter,

The light isn’t close enough, I’m getting more anxious. What is the conductor of the train seeing that I can’t seem to gather?

Using the small flashlight on my phone, I creep closer to the track, and now I can finally see a man with a backpack.

His arm is laying across, empty cans and bottles tossed,

This could have been a life that was lost.

My tiny stature grabs the man, but as I pull him he grabs my hand.

“Now son, this was all planned. It is my time to go” he says pointing at all of the empties.

I’ve been here before, I knew how he felt, but I’m glad I realized that just because of the shitty hand I was dealt does not change the way others have felt.

The truth finally came to light, and this man’s fight is now in my hands.

I roll him over in the gravel, he’s very dismantled, beard full of scraggle.

Nicotine stained fingers and brittle bones, I hope I can find this man’s home.

I search for identification, and an address was found, so I call my friend Tucker to see if he can help.

The house was abandoned, this man is homeless.

At least I saved his life.

Or did I?