New and Old

On the train station platform

In a corner is a cart

Sitting alone, unattended, used

The orange rusted metal wheels turn no more.

The long boards are cracked and splintered.

Its curved handles rusted.

 

However, in its’ heyday it had purpose.

It carried passengers’ items.

Baggage, big heavy suitcases, small overnight bags, mail sacks,

All thrown on expertly by the porter.

 

And he would push the cart awkwardly to the baggage car.

The rough metal wheels turning slowly, squeaking

To unload its’ cargo onto a train destined somewhere.

 

Yes, the cart was useful for a time,

But like a strong young person that ages,

The cart got old and worn and shoved aside…

To be forgotten,

To sit alone,

To rust.

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