Fading with the Forest
Empty walls crumble.
Brick-by-brick the wounds open.
Scars wither to Earth.
From Golden Stalks to Green Mountains
Through her scars of earth,
Between tilled shimmering dirt,
Gold whiskers converge...
50 Shades of Train
People know you ride
when she rolls into a town,
with you drenched in grease.
Your face smudged in dirt.
Your fingernails are deep black.
You ramblin' train tramp.
