2011-18

I gave your ticket
away, I didn't mean
to. I was watching the
tracks, wondering if
the metal rails ever
wriggle free from their
dry bed, weary of
bearing the heavy press
of wheels that roll over
them day after day
after day.

I was watching the
tracks, and wondering
when do the nails pull
away from boards, no
longer willing to just
rust quietly while
the wheels chatter by,
always talking, talking
about tomorrow, the next
horizon, another
journey, another trip.

I gave your ticket away,
I didn't mean to. I was
watching the tracks

and wondering.



Poetry by Minhocao
Read 389 times
Written on 2011-07-16 at 11:00

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countryfog
We share an affinity for trains and tracks . . . how at the edge of what you can see they seem to meet but when you get there, there is just "the next horizon" . . . how the same path that leads you away can also lead you back . . . how in time rust and rot and weeds will reclaim it all and leave you stranded. This is very well done.
2011-07-16