She waits where iron pathways meet, Among the rhythm of wheels and heat, A book in hand, a gaze afar, A soul in motion like the car. The train arrives, the whistle sighs, Steel heart beating 'neath open skies, She boards with steps both sure and light, A shadow passing morning's light. Window seat, her traveling throne, A world of strangers, yet alone, Mountains, towns, and rivers flow, She watches life in reel and glow. Ink-stained fingers, dream-filled mind, A heart untethered, unconfined, The train may stop — she never will, A wanderer with time to fill. She’s not just going — she’s becoming, In tracks and turns, there's something coming. The girl on trains the world might miss, Is writing life in moments like this.
About the Creator
Israr khan
I write to bring attention to the voices and faces of the missing, the unheard, and the forgotten. , — raising awareness, sparking hope, and keeping the search alive. Every person has a story. Every story deserves to be told.
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