Saturday, October 29, 2016

The Trapped Tramp (Sonnet XVIII)

My foot rests on an empty line of track,
The steel is polished smooth and very clean,
I wonder what it is that holds me back
From walking down it, never to be seen.

A fire within me burns to ride the rails,
To see the world slip by as I go past.
As each endeavor that I've started fails
I wonder, even more, how long I'd last.

I dream to test my mettle o'er the steel
ANd end my life an aimless, wandering bard-
To chose my path by only what I feel,
And just to walk away when times get hard.

And when the days are cold and nights are cold,
I'd find my peace in poetry and song.

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