Post, the First!

OK, so my niece let me know that April is National Poetry Month, a fact that escaped my notice. Or mostly did. I recognized the poster after looking it up as the same one used in the display at the local library for (wait for it) National Poetry Month. She suggested writing a poem a day in April, as I had been whining about not being very creative and not writing. In this spirit, here I go....

I can't help but think of you
Each time I cross the tracks.
Was it frightening making that decision?
Or, was it a relief to have finally done it?
Which was worse, deciding to do it,
Or the follow through?
I imagine it like this:
The culmination of weeks of thinking,
Appearing totally impulsive to anyone watching.
The young man staggering down the tracks,
Ultimately sitting down between the rails.
(I heard your wine bottle was between your knees)
Laying back, maybe in a stupor,
And staying there.
The train behind you becoming louder,
The frantic whistle blown repeatedly.
On a side note, trains aren't supposed to
blow them here in town.
I understand it takes some distance
for a mile long train to stop.
And so I find myself thinking of you
Each time I cross the tracks.
I hope it was painless.
I wish it hadn't happened.
Mostly, I wish I understood.