Silver Line (2005r)
We sat in a lounge headed south,
just travelers on the silver line.
We drank and smoked
to music and stories.
Felt the rythm of the tracks
setting a tone for the trip.
We gambled and laughed,
we bragged and fell somber.
We welcomed and said farwell
to those joining us through the night.
And when I came to,
as the sun started to rise,
They were gone like whispers,
just memories of the silver line.
poem by Patrick Wescott
Added by Poetry Lover
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