I Lay My Head Upon the Tracks

Listening for the sound of the Iron Horse

riding the rails, city to town

mountainside, steep

coal burning, whistle crying

singing a lonely song, of times gone past,


Runaway train,

smoking car, unawares

dining on the last dollar in my pocket,

I felt a jolt, and heard

sounds of brakes, screeching

the train groaned, and whimpered


I heard a sound,

as I lay my head on the steel rails,

of coal-driving fury, and determined glory

The sounds grew nearer, while I arched back to see

a ghost train pass on by, out of control

with passengers, afright,

and the look on my face, passing by

never will I, forget

as long as I live…….


Author: notthedane56

My heathen tendencies are waiting to blossom at the Mid-Summer Evening in Denmark. In a Country that professes to have an overwhelming population of believers in the Christian Faith, I am always reassured by their pagan ways, at least one night per year. I won't be throwing myself on the bonfire, but I plan on being warmed by the thoughts of the fun-loving Danes, burning witches at the stake, while singing songs and drinking beer!

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