The well
oiled joints
Creak
their evening sound
Steam
hissing from seals
Water
dripping on the ground
Another
scoop of coal
Gets
tossed into the firebox
Pushed
prodded and leveled
The
fireman's eyes quick as a fox
No
hotspots
No
coldspots
Just like
Goldilock's third try
It's just
right
Gloved
hands grasp controls
Brassy
and hot from the heat
Brake
released
Throttle
eased slow and neat
A pro is
at the helm
Slowly
things are gathered up
Not a
single drop
Will
spill from any crystal cup
No
jerking
No chattering
Just like
Goldilock's third try
It's just
right
Jacket
brushed off
Shoes
polished brightly
Hat on
straight as a level
The
conductor makes his way
Taking
tickets and making notes
Checking
that all is working well
Not a
concern on his face
So
professional none could tell
Appearance
just so
Mannerism
of a pro
Just like
Goldilock's third try
It's just
right
Thundering
through the night
The
Twentieth Century Limited
Makes
fast headway towards Chicago
Headlight
cutting the darkness
Whistle
screaming to clear the way
The
mainline rails shiny with use
A metal
carpet upon which to glide
By early
morning she'll be in the station
But for
now man, what a ride
It's a
bygone era
Metal
steam velvet luxury
And like
Goldilock's third try
It's just
right
No comments:
Post a Comment