What Am I
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The contest title remains listed as the title for this poem. The original title was, 'Passage of a Queen'. Trains will always remain "transportation royalty". Just look at their part in building our country. The poem was born when I heard the faint sound of a train's horn as I was feeding one morning. A change of title made it perfect for the contest. RAY
I pause and listen
To your distant lonely call.
Long and low it pushes
Through the stillness of
The early morning air
To trumpet your arrival.
A disturbance to the sunrise
That is waking here.
It whispers to the ear
That knows your song.
An announcement, an invitation
To meet you at the crossing
Where flashing lights, like soldiers
Make us bow.
And colored arms, like sabers
Fall from attention
To protect your call.
Twelve –hundred horses’ nostrils flare,
Huff and puff their acrid air.
Steel shoes clatter as they rumble
Along your private path.
Your wealth follows on carts
That rattle as they roll.
A strand of pearls
That speaks a message
From a place I’ll never know.
Cyrillic and artistic,
Sung as love notes from a lark.
A serenade to caress you as you slept.
Sung by men who joined the caravan
And later disembarked.
I feel compelled to count them
Then their romance sings
A rainbow to my heart.
Each message is a picture
Drawn by men that love you
As a colored canvas
Waving with the wind.
And when you pass,
My world is still again.
Copyright © Ray Dillard | Year Posted 2016
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