The Orient Express
THE ORIENT EXPRESS
There is this Beautiful, Ghost, Train.
She, all the time, rides the rails into my brain !
Memories of Her, will not refrain
from creating so much strain
upon the hours of my day, of my night,
as the thoughts of, are forever in flight.
Vision of our moments, forever in my sight.
The moments, now, are heavy, never are they light.
A hunting whistle, in the foggy distance, will blow.
It echoes across this barren land
all we shared, all that I know,
no longer to touch your face or take your hand.
Oh Steam Engine, ( Orient Express ), history !,
You’ve, become, as must the engine of my story.
B. J. “A” 2
June 3rd, 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
