Thursday, May 18, 2006

this night


the coal train's whistle comes
thin and lonely, wandering
through midnight sleep

my arm reaches up
fingers almost touching
the sound of gone.

2 comments:

Rus Bowden said...

Hi Sherry,

What a terrific image. I'm there. When the poem is done--it's gone. Nice.

Yours,
Rus

Sherry Pasquarello said...

hi, glad you like this. it is a favorite of mine.