The plume of smoke
The whoosh of steam
Metal wheels on steel rails
That mechanical sound
I'm ten again
Standing on a grass bank
Anticipation a runaway stallion
As the sound thunders closer
Arms waving
Smiling eyes
Whoop of joy
Long whistle blast
The beast rattles past
Leaving a heady aroma
Of cinder smoke settling
In its wake
It never gets old
That little boy still lives inside
He will be back
On Friday
To be ten again
The eyes of a child sure reveals a special image. I love what you see.
ReplyDeleteSome experiences--their sounds and scents--always take us back to where memory is still alive. They even let us take other people back with us... I was there.
ReplyDeleteI love this... but for me the little boy was more afraid of trains I think... no longer so.
ReplyDeleteStill stop when a train crosses and count the cars.. just have to :)
ReplyDeleteMy nephew had a similar enchantment with trains. I think all of us have that certain sound or smell that always enchants us back to our 10 years old selves.
ReplyDeleteYou brought me back to my own ten-year-old days of joy anticipating trains! I especially love your metaphor: "Anticipation a runaway stallion"
ReplyDelete