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Response to Poem "the station"

from ilza (ilza@pobox.com)
I think you are talking about a Robert Hastings poem . THE STATION

Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long, long trip that almost spans the continent. We're traveling by passenger train, and out of the window we drink in the passing scene of cars on a nearby highways, of children waving at a crossings, of cattle grazing on a distant hillsides, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flat lands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls, of biting winter and blazing summer and covorting spring and docile fall.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain hour, we will pull into the station. There will be bands playing and flags waving. And once we get there, so many wonderful dreams will come true. So many wishes will be fulfilled and so many pieces of our lives finally will be neatly fitted together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering....waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.

Robert Hastings

(posted 8799 days ago)

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