Express? NaPoWriMo: Day 13

There it is,

Ticking, temporarily settled;

Longer than the platform.

Beckoning, sighing, impatient

To be flying the rails again:

Locomotive to the right,

Atop the bridge:

The home of the power,

The place all motion begins

(The capital, driving, letter

In a back-to-front sentence).

The coaches line up,

And there is the calaboose.

Me? I am reflected in

Carriage windows;

Surprised because

I was beginning to think

I’d missed all of these chances,

Journeys, risks…

.. and reflections work two ways,

So, as she steams onwards, outwards,

Am I on the seat, leaving,

Looking at the platform?

Or on the platform,

Left behind, doubting

Again?