Misguided by the Light of My Youth

by on September 6, 2012 :: 0 comments

The train started to stop,
and we watched
perched on top
stacks of timber
–cold, cold wood.
The train cars
–slinging, lurching, and screeching,
finally came to a halt.
And I remember
the swaying stacks
and the passing boom!
I was drunk and happy then,
young too,
and I suppose
misguided by the light of my youth,
as most of us have once been.
I thought nothing of it then,
yet I’ve tried to go back
so many, many times since.

editors note:

Wasted on the young, treasured by the old. It’s the same track all down the line. – mh

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