Self-Portrait of a Train
In the slushy shine of winter mornings,
The harsh, huffing breaths of a
Hushed and harried engine heaving
Its hoard of hearts and hopes
Hastens the horizon, rushes
The clicking clack on slickened rails
In its rickety reverie,
Shredding rusty revolutions
Gashed near the western sea.
This poem is about:
Me
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