Pace Maker
--
They say fortune, favors the bold;
my portion… came to me, unsold.
Staring out the train car window;
into disregard’s backyard shows;
of the places, no longer facing the tracks.
Shifting rumbles, rhythmic click clacks;
lulls my mind and tickles my back.
These old arteries tired and cracked
squeals evidence of times, impact;
cast by the wheels, like ghostly siren chimes.
I wonder just how much more time
Does this passenger have, to grind?
The conductor walks down the line…
To punch my ticket and replied,
Looks like you still have, some more miles to go.
I watched as the sun rised bestow.
To warming my face in its glow;
and bracing my pace, of heart throws.
The grace of a single tear flows…
at the embrace, of another days stroll.
© 2023 Robert Trakofler
A picture, a poem, or a spoken word are nothing without a witness and for yours, I am always grateful! Thank you for reading:)
