LatinosUSA

I see it every night in dreams,

a bridge that vanishes in fog.

The railroad ties are rotted through.

The steel tracks are twisted by

a mighty force I do not know.

I cannot travel to the past

and bring back people I have lost.

The here and now on which I stand

is poison ivy, weeds, and stones.

The birds have flown. Sad silence reigns.

I’ve lost my way, the path is gone.

A whistle wafts through endless gray,

a ghost of childhood calling me.

Before I step into the void, 

I wake up to another day.