Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Colorado - Scenes in Black and White
From the mist there comes a train
a vision of noise and steam.
Vital glory not tempered by time
headed East for suns first gleam.
Bridging a gap of deep drowned past
moving onto mournful plain.
Abandoned dream and memory
washed clean by wind and rain.
The whistle sings the sad lament
of love once unafraid.
A song of melancholy rails
for prices we have paid.
What is it of a train that draws
beneath this heedless sky?
Escape or fire, strength, desire
I could not tell you why.
But I find it hard to turn away
with unremitting breath
Machinery fueled by fires might
inhaling life from death
Too late to catch but not to dream
its lure for me won't wane.
For gathered now inside of me
the ghosts of trains remain.