The railroad Tunnel

The railroad tunnel
by the river,
carved in stone
with soft green moss
and silvery puddles
that gather after rain.

The lonesome sound
of a train coming
the clattering of the tracks
it brings me back
back in time.

My beginnings, my roots
in that place
untouched by time
the stone walls
stand and gather memories.

The smell of dampness
even on a July day
the coolness wisp
through the tunnel
and gently touches
my face.

Inside in the darkness
the drip of time
trickles down in the
cinders by the sides
of old metal spikes.

Iron rails bend with curves
along the hills
and the winding river
as far as I can see
back in time.