Blog Title Photo

Blog Title Photo

Monday, November 8, 2010

Last Train

An empty moon breaks on a cragged hill,
and sets behind, a vapid shell.
Glimmering stars shine silent will,
Yet stammer at the last train bell.

The hills and sky are silent, dumb,
These rails drained by the golden sun,
Threads I'll follow, a place to go,
Sparks of coal from a boiler glow.

A leopard now rests with them,
To whistles of flying geese.
They flock across, a blackened sky,
Bringing sleep, bringing peace.

Soon the birds at dawn,
Will snap these dreamers awake.
What happened to the passing night?
And journeys that they make?


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