2 of 47

by Sandra Lynn

Iron rails,
Laid down with sweat,
Mountains moved,
Steep passes made,
In the blistering heat, or,
The cold dawn of day;
Men broke their backs,
To clear the way,
Shovels, picks and axes,
Forging through all impasses.
Make way for the Steam Engine,
Hauling tons of freight,
Pulling thousands of passengers,
Seeking a new start, or,
Just an escape.
Grandfather was a Break-man,
He watched the long decline,
The end of the railroads boom time.
Tracks laid down so long ago,
Now a testament to the men,
And the mighty engines,
Which helped build this land.

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Poetry: The railroad

by Sandra Lynn

Poetry: The railroad

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