The Infant King

Wheels on steel go rumbling through the night
«Away, away» they seem to say
I tip-toe tip-toe through the sleeping train
An infant king who meets his bride
My self-reflection in the window pane
A portrait or a photograph
Two eyes, two ears, nose, uncertain smile
A child reflected thousandfold
Someone said the other day
«The border’s closed, there’s no way in or out
Pack your bags, make up your mind
You can leave your memories behind»
The water in a river we just crossed
Reflects a dark and rolling sky
The train keeps speeding through an endless night
My mood is changing every mile
Someone said the other day
«The world is cracking up, it’s plain to see»
Overheard two people say
«Some gold works wonders when you want to go»
This is a portrait, not a photograph
It says a great deal about me
Two eyes, two ears, nose, uncertain smile
The infant king is on his way