Of Vagrant Words
I chanced upon a vagrant word
beside an idle railroad track
its campfire fueled by burning books
it asked:"Is poetry coming back?"
I shrugged, acknowledging my doubt
unable to assuage its fear
we listened in the setting sun
for that distant train not coming near.
Curling in their darkened dream
cindered pages slow took flight
ripped from bindings memory
of humming rails and fevered write.
Two hobos now, a word and pen
inhale the scent of mystery
sing off key a one string tune
of a vagrant words lost history.
John G. Lawless
5/25/2020
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2020
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