PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It is the sound heard across our great land,

going clickety click as wheels go round.

With it this country would not have expand,

and the two coasts would have never been bound.



Men worked long, laying the hardened steel track,

across the plains and through the mountain’s peaks.

Laboring and sleeping in tent and shack,

learning as they went using new techniques.



Finally ending, pounding the silver spike,

tying track laid from both far away coasts.

Lifting hammer high giving one last strike,

praying for the souls of all the lost ghosts.



Once they were used to bring folks and goods west,

now it’s an industry surely depressed.