The old tracks. Built in the old west. Waiting to be used again. forgotten, abandoned. Waiting to smell the smoke from the freshly cut wood. Waiting to feel the carts stocked to their highest points to roll again. Waiting to fell hope again.
Waiting for that point when it feels used again.
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picture from here |
The old tracks. Built in the old west. Waiting to be used again. forgotten, abandoned. Waiting to smell the smoke from the freshly cut wood. Waiting to feel the carts stocked to their highest points to roll again. Waiting to fell hope again.
Waiting for that point when it feels used again.