The paths of trains are
Bound they pass one another
Propelled by controllers within
Their powerful steel shells
But there is no power in them
Hello friend beckons one steel coach
As he passes another the
Still zombie white light is all that
Betrays any semblance of emotion
Upon the grim visage of the carriage
There are no remarks upon the blight
And beauty which they encounter
The phantom lights stay the same
And the man within drives them
As the steel turns back to rust
flakes and flakes and flakes
Until it is replaced or the coach is
Eternally retired to fade unnoticed
Back into the dirt
A collection of poems and musings by a rookie poet and constant dreamer - J.O.S.H
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