Maybe All In Vain

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Sitting in the doorway,

Of a battered old train,

Dreaming of a teal bay,

Waiting for the rain.

The song from the heart,

Conflicts with the brain,

Maybe it was everything,

Or maybe all in vain.

Finding needle in the hay,

Digging sand for a grain,

Its only dawn of the day,

And I’m begging to be sane.

What is it that I seek?

Down this memory lane,

This far-off gaze would not,

Find anything to gain.

The whistle, making tracks,

Asking me to do the same,

Get seated for the journey,

And to let go of the strain.

But this power of illusion,

Keeps my eye on the chain,

What feels like everything,

Can not be all in vain.