Pagosa Springs Artists

Trains of Yore

Smokestack blasts and churning wheels
Spitting steam with screechy squeals
Followed by a roaring  beast--
Rushing train was heading east.

Engineer would give a wave
When he saw the salute we gave;
Sometimes Brakeman tossed us gum
Or wrapped candy, on  his  run.

Diesels up front--three or more--
Pulled a long train, that’s for sure;
Now and then, for football games,
 Were treated to some passenger trains.

Feeling a rumble through the floor,
Hearing the rattle of our front door,
Or a blare of whistles--  always four,
Recalls passing trains of yore.



first published in Small Brushes

©2001 Bonnie Manion


Poem of the Month

  • March - 2023
  • ""
  • February - 2023
  • ""