The Sun in Her Prison
It\'s quitting time for the sun,
Sunk in a cell of fading light.
Night\'s fat fist punches out
The last plea for daylight.
Steel caterpillar time
Screeches past, belching dark.
Tracks entangled in tall weeds
By my platform, barren, stark.
Freight train of ragged dreams,
Crammed cars groan under grief—
Faces smudged with old regrets,
No room for belief.
Single muscle of will dives,
Through the ink of hardship, submerged.
Bound to a comatose fate,
Powerless to emerge.