14 Comments
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Bougie Hippie's avatar

Love train - please please stop at my station. But if you keep rolling by I'll know to wait for the next one. xx

Andrea 🌄's avatar

This is so sweet. I hope the love train does stop at your station <3

Voices From Morocco (VFM)'s avatar

Thanks for reading and commenting.It ll stop in due time.

Naya | The Clumsy Writer's avatar

This was so beautiful to read

Voices From Morocco (VFM)'s avatar

Thank you very much Naya.You gave me a real energy to write more and share better stories.Glad to have you here as a special reader.surely, I won't miss your posts.

MargaretGypsy's avatar

This poem felt like the lyrics to a song that I would listen to over and over again, waiting for the train.

Voices From Morocco (VFM)'s avatar

I wish I could find someone to sing my poems.

MargaretGypsy's avatar

Something to think about!

Jay's avatar

True Poetry lies in wait for a different consciousness/person to view it and feel the message it brings. I let it flow from your heart to mine and it does. It spoke to my soul, that deeper part of me that feels life so generously. I see parts of my experience, my own life in your phrases. I might still be waiting for the train to stop. I'm not done yet I guess and that's ok too.

Voices From Morocco (VFM)'s avatar

Thanks for your reading Jay.Your words have warmed the heart of a sensitive poet and author.Blessed is your whole life.

Adrião Pereira da Cunha's avatar

The poem feels like someone standing in the soft weather of their own longing, listening for the faint rumble of hope and trying not to lose heart. The “love train” becomes almost a living presence, something that moves with its own rhythm, never quite close enough to trust, never far enough to forget. The speaker’s stillness carries both patience and quiet exhaustion, as if waiting has become a way of holding themselves together. Faces passing “like windows” captures the loneliness of watching life move around you while you remain rooted in place. The repeated plea “Will you stop at my station” feels like a whisper from someone who has learned to ask gently, afraid of wanting too much. There is tenderness in the desire for “just a moment that stays,” a longing not for grand promises but for something real enough to touch. The train’s hum through the dark mirrors the speaker’s uncertainty: is love approaching, or slipping away again. And the final lines land like a soft, trembling hope a heart asking, one more time, to be seen, to be chosen, to be met where it waits.

Voices From Morocco (VFM)'s avatar

Like each time you give me the chance to find out more about what I write.You take me out of my texts to look into them from different and beautiful corners.Thanks for this amazing training,Adriao.

Kelly Trost's avatar

Hello Ahmed, I love this! I feel like I can hear the music to these lyrics playing in the background of my mind. Beautiful poem, my friend.