A moving dream on the railways of reality.

by Poet on the Piano   Jun 23, 2022


I'm used to the trains in our backyard,
the baritone doesn't scare or startle me anymore;
the trains run a path of security and devotion,
an infallible voice of thunder -
a merciful god, a reaffirming decree,
not an angry strike against my soul.
I imagine the voice tucking me in,
my head laying on the brittle hay in the box car,
as I dream of fluffy clouds and cool creeks.

People always complain of trains until
they've been around them long enough.
Then, the freight cars become a comfort.
A necessity to sleep.
I don't dream of earthquakes or
violent ruptures in the universe.
I don't even dream of the dizziness of life,
and what would happen if I stopped spinning.

I just dream.
Sometimes, of you.
Sometimes, of the place we'll eventually end up.

And I hear the distant rumble,
making its way nearer...

I hear, and I dream, and I ride
somewhere on the wisp of a dream.

______________________________________

Written while listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q5yeqPj4KI

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Latest Comments

  • 6 days ago

    by BOB GALLO

    I love the language, the imageries and everything els about this poem and your poems in general.
    You are gift that keeps on giving.

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