White Rose

Same spot, same time, another year gone by
Georgia slips into night under fading blue skies
Sweet scent of pine transports him back
To that evening along this stretch of track
He bows his head, closes his eyes

Silver rails reflected the setting summer sun
Clear signal, throttle up, railroading’s fun
Five thousand tons of hurtling freight
Speed topping fifty, they wouldn’t be late
Yes, indeed, this would be a good run

Then a flash caught his eye, off to the right
From tree line shadows sprang a rush of white
A young woman in a long, snowy gown
Leapt between the rails and knelt down
Spread her arms and gazed into his headlight

Oh, Jesus, no!  He cried in desperate appeal
Heart pounding, mind racing, it all seemed unreal 
He laid on the horn and dumped all his air
Frantically begged her to move clear in despair
Amid screech and squeal of steel on steel

Just before she slipped beneath his view
Their eyes locked and in that instant he knew
The pain she ended that sweet summer’s eve
Would now be his, would never leave
Two lives collided, left broken and askew

Thirty years have come and gone
He’s been here each, never missing one
He stoops and places his single white rose
Amongst ballast stones, where no grass grows
Tears glistening in the setting sun