Abandoned box cars, relics from the 1950s, in Hogansville, Ga.
ON SLEEPLESS NIGHTS
On sleepless nights,
I lie in bed and hear the train
Screaming down tracks of rusted iron.
It blows on by at 1 in the morning,
It returns at 3 and then again at 4.
As the conductor's whistle groans,
Like a lonely baritone blaring in the night,
I am reminded of all those friends
over the years,
who blew in and out of my life.
Some meant more than others,
They burned brightly for a time,
Then faded to black,
Their voices no longer heard.
I am left with the memories.
Of tender words,
And broken promises of forever.
They blow in,
And out of my life.
On sleepless nights.
© July 6, 2011.
Words and Image are the property of Leo Hohmann.
Please do not use without permission of the author.