Little engine that can
Published in
1 min readMar 19, 2012
I see you chugging along that grassy hill,
along tracks that screech and beg for polish.
I can hear the coals burn and the thunder of your wheels;
can see your strength and courage forged by fire,
cooled into the sturdy iron that builds your frame.
What hill? you say, with a devilish grin.
All you see are tracks, and everyone knows that you own these tracks.