Sleepers - Poem by George Savige
The train is creeping.
The rails are sleeping.
But time means nought
At all to they,
For sleeping's what
They do all day.
And they just lay there
For each of them
Is called a....'Sleeper'.
Comments about Sleepers by George Savige
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You