The way to freedom

An old yet glistening steam train,
A rare sight for this day,
Is on its way, as many are,
To freedom, and its flame.

And though, perhaps the slow and oldest,
It takes the scenic road,
Where very few have come and gone,
Nor unhappily grown old.

A road of skies and stories,
Of stars to everlast,
Yet I understand, as no-one could,
It still, is but one path.

I understand, though never thought,
This train might one day stop.
I know you must depart now.
I know. This is your stop.

I'd hope that if you'd leave now,
You'd find an honest road;
I'd hope for all eternity,
You're cared for where you go.

And still I'd hope, that if you leave now,
Although it's not my place,
I'd hope you'd turn around to stay,
And once more see your face.

But most of all, I'd hope that,
If nothing else would be,
That ever more, our tracks would cross,
And I'd smile, and see you free.

And ever more I'd hope that,
If nothing else would be,
I hope you find your freedom,
And that I'd always see.

Yet now across the platform,
My flame would bid goodbye,
And through the old and slowest glass,
Steam parts the you and I.

An old yet glistening steam train,
Continues on its way,
Head high, tears falling, outlook forward,
To freedom, and its flame.

To: Dylon K.