Milepost 46.9A Poem by Lonesome TravelerIt's the coastline run, Bay Shore to Guadalupe, Shift, haul, box and move young Brakeman runs with the gun. Engineer shout, locomotive weave, Southern skies, fill up his eyes. Many flies. The points beat with his heart, Cotton, grape, maize A thousand memories in the dark. He's living the high-low life dust, must and coals but a foal. Of the railroad it's his wife. The mad student brakeman runs for the lot, makes six hundred a month saves every last dot. © 2013 Lonesome TravelerAuthor's Note
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Lonesome TravelerUnited KingdomAboutYoung, British and naive going on cynical. Searching for the right path, and all that mother jazz. " Pass the parcel, sometimes that's all you can do. Take it, feel it, and pass it on. Not for me, .. more..Writing
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