Poetry, Writing

Broken Tracks

A cloud of black haze billows out of the smokestack

contrasting the crisp blue sky,

as it pulls to the station.

A woman hops off,

bags in hand.

Brother and sister

left..

The vibration of the locomotive engine passes through their hearts.

Tears from their eyes fall to the ground

as the train moves on.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s