The Twelve Forty-Five Poem by Edward Steinhardt
The Twelve Forty-Five
That's how it must have been
In the Old Days- the Train,
Like a roaring beast
Come to rock the babes in their dreams
As it thundered through town.
Now, it just quakes through the night,
Lulling the empty crossing
With rocking cars and wheezing brakes;
Trekking from Nowhere to Somewhere,
Riding the rails that tie
The whole thing to the earth.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
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4/26/2024 7:19:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
