Mike Berger

Madrigal

A pocket full of rye.
The train to nowhere is leaving
the station.
A one way ticket for her please.
A one way ticket for her please.

Obtuse angles grate against the
dark vermillion sky.
The train whistles it's goodbye.
Shrill to the core.
Shrill to the core.

Quivering hands blow a kiss
as the train departs. She is
going away over that dark
sunset over the hill.
Goodbye, I love you.
Goodbye, I love you.

Mike Berger © 2009