Stormy barn south of the X-way

The empty path is home

to a great company of shadows -

ghostly passengers on

a westbound train headed nowhere in particular.

They sit on barbed wire remnants and dry leaves,

scraping up broken dreams in the blistering September heat.

Smiling through the lack of happiness,

aching though they feel no pain -

day in, day out

I watch them fall from the dead-end bridge,

hanging over murky waters

in a forest I shall never see.