three in the morning

Three in the morning,
The trains roll by.
I lay awake, their lonesome call
Spanning the dark miles of sleeping ground,
Drifting over bracken
And November frost,
Alive in the stillness, and howling with it.
In my little room
The ghosts of headlights
Pass through the window,
Search the empty walls,
And pass on. . .
For lack of dreams, I watch them move
And wish that I was moving, too,
And more than an echo
Of train cars.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “three in the morning

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s