Upon the tracks where steam and music meet,
He wandered, smiling, through the smoky haze,
Jazz notes and whistles tangled in the street,
His days a rhythm, his nights a smoky blaze.
He spoke in syncopation, soft and low,
A tune that lingered gently on the air.
With every song and engine\'s whistle\'s blow,
He found delight and wonder everywhere.
Now silence fills the carriage and the hall,
The vinyl spins but does not catch his ear,
The locomotive rests, awaiting his call,
Yet memories and melodies draw him near.
Good friend, your jazz and rails shall not depart—
They echo ever gently in my heart.