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Boxcar Slates
Another bit of morning time,
I’d make that Nevada borderline.
Heard it said, you’re never lost
on these trails of lonely rail,
just haven’t got there yet.
But there is hope in the dream
that there is still more to dream.
When those cold chilly California winds
flush through the yawning cracks
in these old tawny boxcar slates,
carry to mind dreams long gone.
Guess that ole Nevada borderline
is just gonna hafta wait.
My home is all the colors of now,
and, oh, it is such a beautiful sound.
The poem is full of beautiful
The poem is full of beautiful imagery, conveyed in a very unique tone, but those last two lines are supremely and beautifully joyous, and resonate long after the poem has been read. I applaud this great accomplishment. I think the last two lines belong in every library's quotation book.
J-Called
Loving this vivid scene from
Loving this vivid scene from the life of a transient and free spirit: the loneliness, imagined vastness and the spontaneity as he decides to live in the moment. This is brilliant: "My home is all the colors of now
And, oh, it is such a beautiful sound"
Nice Image!
"My home is all the colors of now"