Sleep
Goodnight, my whistle whispers
muffled by squeals and clanks,
the freights' heavy weight cradles the breath I take.
Exhales through chilled wind churn coldness steel,
solidifies my being real,
through every jolt shakes every bolt, a thrash, clash, pulsing bit,
steal me up a comfort ladder, with dirt upon its' grip.
As southern evening falls, does burning spark of metal wheels in the dark,
miles before the port breaks clear
before I hop off to see you near.
Copyright © Jane Iii | Year Posted 2014
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