This town sleeps with windows open.
The warm summer nights compel this.
Autumn will come too soon,
And early cold will
Press down from the north.
But just this night,
A rumble and squeal
At once familiar but
Out of place,
Rushes south on rusty rails.
Syncopated cadence
Of hurling fire
Crashes into innocence,
Awakens all to nightmare.
Cries of “Mon Dieu! ” and
“Secours! ” echo in the dark.
Frantic figures hurry to help,
Oblivious or brave
In the face of flames.
The rail that brings
Their livelihood has
Cast the dice of downfall,
And those who lose
Are gathered in the arms
Of greedy Death.
©Charles Darnell 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
if i did, i enjoyed reading it AGAIN. too bad it wasn't just a fable. favorite stanza: The rail that brings Their livelihood has Cast the dice of downfall, .................love the alliteration, and all the rest of it! yes, Death can be greedy. And those who lose Are gathered in the arms Of greedy Death. to MyPoemList. bri :)