Memories
send me back
to a time when
I was a girl of ten.
Sun scorched soil
seared my feet
as I hoed long rows
of blossoming tomatoes.
The ground rumbled
as a whistle blew…
Trails of black smoke
billowed from the stack.
Rumbling wheels
followed along the rails
I waved to the engineer;
he waved back.
I watched the train
as it sped past…
New autos gleamed
with shiny chrome.
Boxcars clickity clacked
on the track
The red caboose
bid adieu.
8/21/07
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem