When The Whistle Blows

When the whistle blows, the world stands still,

Echoes of loss, a bitter pill.

In the silent breeze, I hear the cries,

Of dreams shattered beneath darkened skies.

Each whistle blow, a mournful knell,

Of a life once lived, now gone to dwell

In the depths of sorrow, where shadows reign,

And memories fade like a passing train.

I once held all, or so I thought,

But fate's cruel hand, my dreams it caught.

Now I stand alone, in the cold and grey,

As the whistle blows my hopes away.

Gone are the days of laughter and cheer,

Replaced by the echoes of my fear.

For what is left when all is lost,

But a hollow heart and a heavy cost?

So when the whistle blows its mournful tune,

I bow my head, my spirit marooned.

In the wreckage of what used to be,

I mourn the loss of all that's me.

Yet through the pain, a flicker glows,

A tiny spark amidst the throes.

For even in darkness, there's a light,

A beacon of hope in the darkest night.

So I'll stand tall when the whistle blows,

Embracing the sadness, but letting it go.

For in every ending, a new beginning lies,

And from the ashes, a phoenix will rise.