Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Through this leafy cutting the trains once ran,
all steam and heat and billows of noise,
ground shaking beneath our feet, brakes shrieking,
but long gone now and the tracks removed.
A sylvan path for dogs and walkers it’s become,
a stroll between the season’s trees and bushes,
nature’s idyll where once was steely bustle.
Dark nights a distant whistle still blows around the bend.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 11.23.22
Prompt: Write a poem about something you can see from where you are right now.
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