Cinders and Steam
There they rested on rusting rails so regal yet so stark.
An old steam engine and its caboose now sit silent in the park.
Since I was on a casual stroll and had some time to squander,
I sat upon a beckoning bench, its yesteryears to ponder.
In my mind's eye I saw this Goliath racing down the rails,
Spewing billowing smoke and hearing its melancholy wails.
The engineer consulted his watch, anxious to meet his goals.
With elbows and cinders flying, the fireman stoked the coals!
I reckoned it towed freight cars as part of its ponderous load,
And of course free-spirited hoboes, those vagabonds of the road.
I'm sure its odyssey crossed desert sands and verdant prairies,
And coursed thro' mountain cols as high as eagles' aeries.
I envisioned sleek Pullman cars it pulled with happy folk aboard,
Enjoying the grandeur of this nation as down the track it roared!
Did it witness sad goodbyes as it carried soldiers off to strife?
Alas, did it carry a hero's coffin who had sacrificed his life?
What a thrill watching a steam engine thundering down the line.
I'll return again to reminisce before this venerable shrine.
Startled by a diesel train and its raucous klaxon across the way,
I wakened from my reverie and slowly walked away.
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
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