The Last Stop
This old train hums along as it rolls down the track
Its wheels churn and turn
its belly burns the coal fed to the furnace by its engineer
On a runaway train barreling down a one way track I have but one chance to make it home before it goes black.
It picks up speed and momentum approaching the covered bridge.
So if I hope to ever see the light of day again, I’d better jump.
Now I’m in a spot cause I missed the last stop and there’s no telling when or if I’ll ever make it back
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“to make it back home”
poetry has always been our home
and this year you made it back