I hear the track, then see the light.
Before I can hear it, the train is in sight.
The whistle blows loud but, not as cold as the wind.
Not on a night 8 stories up, before the snow comes in.
The train passes, and a mighty gust blows.
This having an even louder sound after the train goes.
Noticing the winds cold upward ascent.
Where it will meet with warm air and its time will be spent.
For the heater goes hard and pumps away.
Keeping all that cold air at bay.
On what is known as a frigid November night.
Before actually deciding what to write.
Or was this really the writing task?
Guess that was the question I should’ve first asked.
This works for now and will still please the mind.
For I have used my words to inspire another kind.
Electric Icarus Project 