The Railwayman

autumn

A Railway township built early 1900s
With Railway quarters provided
The workshop to repair trains
The railwayman’s job awaits.

My father the blue-collar worker
Working the Railways from before marriage
The workshop his place of work
A railwayman his whole life long.

Tracks leading into the workshop
Bring train engines and caboose
As far and wide throughout the country
To be repaired, to be serviced.

The whistle blows in the morning
Sounding the start of a workday
You hear the shrill for lunch and day’s end
It resonates the heart of Railway life.

A Railway township during the sixties
You’d see children outdoor in play
Railway brats we called ourselves
We the children of tough railwaymen.

The Railway township long since gone
My childhood home is no more
It’s workshop a Theatre now
The shrill of that last whistle a memory.

The railwaymen of an era long gone by
My father, one such railwayman
Strong and hardworking his whole life
A railwayman right to the end.

By C.E. Pereira
(19-10-2015)

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Author: cepcarol

I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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