Bushes by the side of a railway track,
Dance in a kind of trance,
Waving their hands gaily.
They dance about in unison,
Nothing to hold them back,
No Worries, no Mid’life crisis,
Wild, like a child.
A Storm on the horizon, awaits,
I see them, dancing in the same atoned movement,
Waving their hands, gaily
Knowing that death, may be swift.
I think of men,
And I wonder,
If ever one could be that indifferent,
Not paying heed,
His only objectives.