In the heart of the city, the iron serpent sighs,
Its breath echoes through the morning mist,
Carrying stories of countless lives,
Bound by dreams and a wanderer’s tryst.

Windows frame fleeting landscapes, a moving art,
Fields of gold and skies of gray,
The rhythm of wheels, a beating heart,
As time slips silently away.

A tapestry of faces, strangers yet known,
Sharing the silence, the laughter, the tears,
Each journey a story, a seed that is sown,
In the garden of memories, throughout the years.

The train whispers secrets of journeys untold,
Of destinations unseen, of paths yet to chart,
A promise of adventure, of stories to unfold,
In the endless embrace of the iron heart.