I remember hearing the dark stranger every morning

Playing music, walking along the railway

You could never tell what kind of music he was playing

But it helped wake me up everyday

I only remember seeing him a couple of times

Weathered face; warn clothes that showed many years of travellin’ in the sand

Darkened skin that gave you a sense of hard times

Of going along with his own caravan

When times are tough

I just rested my head out my window

And every morning his music would be just enough

To help me face tomorrow

As I got older and moved on

I just imagined a piece played

Humming along to an ancient song

That for my everyday being, I am happy, was laid

I bought my old home in the neighbourhood

And in the backyard where the trail used to be

Gone were the rails made of wood

A paved trail as far as the eye could see

The memories will always be there at length

I hold on to them to make life easier

I still close my eyes and pull on the strength

Of years of having heard the Rail Runner

March 24, 2003

© Andrew Scott – The People Poet 2003