It stands forsaken with the passing of time, a remembrance of the past when the old passengers, chugged along its tracks having clouds of drak black smoke to the horizon.
A monument well-worn with age where once men stood along its platform talking over politics and smoking pipes while cedar shavings fell in a heap around their feet and women clad in their Sunday best huddled together discussing recipes and new babies while the children waited in anxiety for the conductor to appear and yell, "All aboard!
Today, almost hidden by the vines growing around its frame silent it stands while the diesels roar by never once stopping at its door -- alone, a cast - a way lost in a world of automation. The laughter of the children has died away. Men and women gather no more, but still it waits in the solitude of a forgotten era.