On the Narrow Gage

Loving the laughter and chitter-chatter the language of smiles is all that matters.

Different Nations converge on a train… babies, toddlers, an old man with a cane.

Spectacular views, a serpentine track, vivid blues, baby-leaf-greens, and coal-black.

Chug-chugging engine and cool Mountain breeze… heavenly vistas, vibrant diverse trees.

Glittering rocks, living sparkling streams, time stands still and lets Eternity dream.

Until…

Rabid rivers, rushing, raging, racing. Past and present, current, churning, pacing.

Running down river at a break-neck-speed,

to where waters wander; unconfined- freed.

On the train smoke wafts, on the wind of whim.

Soot, seeking eyes, makes my vision dim.

There are billows and puffs and charcoal smells

And somewhere deep inside; my spirit swells.

Chug-chugging engine and cool mountain breeze,

City-hardened-heart begins the unfreeze;

on the Narrow Gage.

Rabid rivers

Author: Jana Horton

I write to soothe my soul. I empty my words onto napkins, scraps of paper, receipts... anything really. When I was very young my mom told me to stop writing on my hand. I never did. I write on it to this day. I’ve lost so many scraps of Self on soggy napkins; I’ve yet to lose my hand. The words I scribble there may wash off, but since they are inscribed in my soul, once they are released, from heart to hand, I am allowed to let them go.

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