Tied to the Tracks
Tied to the tracks,
With the train on its way,
A guillotine axe,
That will nowise delay,
Pounding mechanical clacks,
Sweating in nervous dismay.
Mountains so high,
And the echo of steam,
A loud lullaby,
As I face the next dream,
Tears glinting salt in mine eye,
Watching the serpentine stream.
Verdant the pass,
In a chorophyl bliss,
Luscious with grass,
In a sunlit abyss,
Skies hanging perfect as glass,
And wind with a sibilant hiss.
Blanketing cotton,
To cover my face,
Shortly forgotten,
And cast to disgrace,
There with the ghosts lying rotten,
Always to tarry and chase…
adamdaniel 