How sad are these verses from the last stanza: "In perpetuity, I’ll carry with me this quiet wound, wondering if you, too, ever paused to look back?" How many of us say goodbye without wanting to? How many of us have become the ghosts in other people's lives? I like the metaphor of the train that comes and goes, leaving people behind. The places we have been will never be the same, even if we return, the poet says. Hugs