Dusk At Princeton Station
man on the platform
Northward trains
waits pressed against
late summer
still-green
densities
rush as only
shadows can
sun slants/the dark slides easily in
tree clusters red, yellow
tinged, early October, top
limb silver shine leans
downhill over-catches the
man leaning on a rail face
to late sun, worker, dirty,
pants torn, catches it
in the ear (so it appears)
he does not move, think,
fears what might occur
from such a limb
there
at this late hour
sun and shadow slide
away from each as I wait
the train here more mine
to outrun what is left
behind
chase a horizon
toward gold then red to
Magic 10** never old or
worn as am I rush
rocked by track
lilt wheel tilt
toward melting
darkness
a permanent one
hang some where
it is a song once
upon a star all
child's play now
for now
[...] Read more
poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
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