Toy Train

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I found my poem

collecting dust on my shelf.
Right next to the trophy I won in third grade,
Science award.
It stared me in the eye.
The front left wheel had gone missing.
The lights were like a candle,
at its last moments of burning.
The smell of metal,
the screeching sound of the tracks,
make my poem relevant again,
even if just for a moment.
I found my poem
trying to sound its horn,
but it remained silent,
from sitting dormant for too long.
The little engine that thought it could.
Couldn’t.





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