Change

"I want you to remember that sound," my mother said,
as a steam locomotive blew its full-throated
whistle in the morning distance.

"There aren't very many of those left," she said,
"and soon they will all be gone."

My mother knew that change was coming,
but how much, she didn't know.

Her prediction came true,
and I remember the sound,
but now change is our only hope.

Change is now our only hope.

Text Copyright © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.