Written for: The Twiglets #201 - "weedy rail tracks"
Kids loved stepping
on weeks grown tall
of old train tracks.
She sprung up
like a weed,
thin as a rail.
girl gathers weeds
in bunches to bring home
near the rusted rails
There once was a hobo named Jack
who loved riding boxcars on track.
He drank a little
and played the fiddle
Jack's tales caused bosses to turn their backs.
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
I left a comment at Twigs… didn’t see a link there.
Jack sounds cool. 😀