Here is a little ballad I wrote this Winter. This is partly a true story. The Afternoon Train Then he sits down with his own cup of tea And waits by the stall for the afternoon train The autumn winds wail like a lone wolf’s cry And takes him back to a small-town lane His eyes grow weary his fingers grow frail The tea tastes sour like tears in his eyes An old man’s pride is buried deep down Down in the ocean, oh up in the skies The afternoon train, it whistles and it screams He rubs his eyes and prays he would find A face that he knew, was once so dear A face that he lost in whirls of time The train pulls away while he stands by With smoke in his eyes so full of regret Sitting by the stall he dwells in the days Lord, those times he never can forget His thoughts grow dim with each passing day He still yearns for dreams foregone An old memory just fading like the sun But fire in his heart still carries on As I pass him by, he cries out loud "Love's not a veil, oh boy show it all I didn't know so she went away I'll die alone here by the stall" Then he sits down with his own cup of tea Every now and then - watches trains go by “Oh my love, I wait just for thee” Holding his tears he sings with a sigh Guess I know now why raindrops fall A soul in regret can make heavens cry. Gautam Dhar 21 November 2005 For those who would care to comment on my attempted audio version of the last song I posted (The Old Maple), please visit: http://www.msu.edu/~dhargaut/Links/maple.htm Thanks!!