Not sure yet, I slowly turn to the sound of a familiar voice.
Yours maybe?
It has been three years since the social dance of co-workers and mingling - inevitable small talk.
Three years ago, this was a not so foreign path.
Is it too much all at once?
These long office corridors can be home
versus the long, dreadful, hours spent at home
the winter months are not the worst - June, July and August are the culprits.
They drag - like an old train chugging past.
Whistling in the wind.
My life is not a rundown railroad train.
dodging my own shadow, I spent what seemed like lifetimes, watching the sun slouch across the carpet.
Seated at a round table, they laugh in the crowded cafe.
Alert yet apart, I will blend in like a chameleon, like a flower in a vase I will arrange myself to bend with my fellow flowers.
We will all bloom and it will all be glorious.
Anna the bandit and shady jane
set out to rob a railroad train.
So, they went for the gold.
Then botched the escape.
In for ten, no parole,
Makin license plates.
As I ride across the high desert plains
an open, arid scenery whisks by.
The sun is heating up rippled windows
on the railroad train, as it jostles riders
to jiggle, jerk and sway
to the click, clack of wooden tracks
towards Tucumcari, New Mexico
Gateway To The West.
Sounds of the Old Wild West
stir up the imagination
like the great train robbery
of Black Jack Ketchum in 1897
near Tucumcari, where he and his bandits
secretly hid their stash of gold
long before the train whistle
blew near the station.
Clickity clack, or could that be horses’ hooves
galloping alongside the old train tracks?
As desert dust kicks up, I envision ghosts of riders
wild west cowboys catching up
with guns out of holsters
shouting, “Stop the train! Get the gold!”
“Next stop, Tucumcari!”calls the conductor
I am shaken out of my daydream and look around.
Humble buildings huddle within the arroyos
people proud of their Southwestern heritage
for here in the desert you’ll not find a heartier folk
than those who live within this great land
of grit and sizzling sun.
Let Our Souls Survive
Me, many people tried to impress
When they produced the Polar Express
Planned railroad train destined to go
To North Pole both you and I know.
Over and over would watch whole show
With animated characters going to and fro
Place in heart movie made and found
Right down to last song and sound.
You can see children in each car
North Pole is way off and very far
And ice and snow still stay all around
There is only silence without any sound.
Pretty soon wind has started to howl
And from tree branch can hear an owl
Hooting a sound and remaining alive
So glad God will let our souls survive.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
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