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