Breath of a Railway

The lost breath of a railway rises like a chorus,
when the rain erases names from the plaques.
everything grows light upon the water sliding on metals,
and every step is memory returning to seek you.
Each drop is a note, metal breathing, a rebellious gong,
the iron sings to the rhythm of heavy clouds;
the emptied signs become scores of silence,
and the station holds the breath of travelers.
The chorus persists beyond the rustle of water,
until dawn dissolves names from the air and restores them;
only remains the layer of wind that accompanies those who leave,
and the echo of the rails that never cease to go.