Open Cast Yard
Open cast yard
Black rain filtered down the cobble stone catching the moon almost making a white streak of what looked like paint as it found the large grated drains
As morning came transformations of colours form as oil slick from the Lorries brightly covered concrete bays and the smell of sweet coal raising steam from the heat of the sun and the guard man at the gate grin pains
The architecture of the tall green bins made of steel house the coal in structure always there on the landscape proud useful but I heard a boy got stuck in one and was crushed by the weight when coal picking and I hear his screams every time I hear the screeching of the lines on the trains
See every place or small town has a short cut and the coal yard was ours and whether we used it or not I will always remember the birds singing and the sun rising with the rain pouring and the boy screaming but now it’s not there any more and no one can pass through apart from thoughts in me remains
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2014
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