Self-Portrait of a Train

In the slushy shine of winter mornings,

The harsh, huffing breaths of a

Hushed and harried engine heaving

Its hoard of hearts and hopes

Hastens the horizon, rushes

The clicking clack on slickened rails

In its rickety reverie,

Shredding rusty revolutions

Gashed near the western sea.

This poem is about: 
Me
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