creaks and groans,
shudders and shakes
But there are
no worries
These timbers
have what it takes
They flex a little,
maybe
some bending
but no break,
No
Its the
ore laden,
rolling trains
All broken and
forgotten
That failed
That declined
And decayed
But the trestle
remains
Alone
in the desert,
red light
cold night
early morning
frost and
yearn For
the days
of thunder
Not the quiet
The solitude
Of being
the express
for critters
Or people
brazen and bold
Enough to cross
longs
For the days
When it had
Worth
Had purpose
And function
Not just a
Skeleton
In the desert
Lost
Out of sight
Within earshot
Of the highway
But just out of view
Invisible
as the cars
fly by
Obscured
By the dunes
The dunes
that have
no sea
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