Trains That the Words Forgot
Steam and smoke trains, dont fume anymore,lying like dead corpses or spare parts of what once was called the golden age;;
If they would fume, it would only be a plaintive sigh, about their desolate demise; forsaken and rejected........
Thought to have lost their charm, their romance:too much archaic and rusted for a modern glossary,
They don't whistle full-throated screams, when coming into crowded scene,
with travellers waiting with roses and flowers.....and home--comers long awaited return, from war, from places never before gone to....
Old smoking trains too much aged for a godspeed journey acroos the green lands, and winding between the grazing pastures and the flat plains and the long tracks, thru' the gigantic mountains, and alongside the deadly cliffs,,
But, safety guaranteed and entertainment are additional bonus...........
They throng, now inside the old wood station, built somewhere at the fringe of the town, beside the pine forest..and the old cemetery........
Those archaic trains, on the dusty shelt remain,like outworn clichés rejected,. Art is antiquity enshrined...on Natural museums and open to air parcs...............
I don't cry over those dead entities which dont whistle, but i cry on Romance missed and Beauty overlooked, In time of fast eating and fast breeding, and fast living; and fast death.dying, nothing doin !!!!
Copyright © Poetic Flame | Year Posted 2023
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