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Aug 2017
Hidden meanings,
trapped in memories,
released by,
the piercing whine.

The rumbling tracks,
once punctuated by an
exclamation point of smoke,
now nothing.

An escape,
I jump on,
as it trundles by
to someplace.

Empty boxcar,
I hide in the shadows,
curled up in the corner,
waiting for where it stops.
The Fire Burns
Written by
The Fire Burns  M/Artesia, NM
(M/Artesia, NM)   
57
 
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