The lonesome dream
Keeps returning
Amidst the dark
Of a deeper sleep
Across the rail tracks
Past the factory
Railroad weed
Along the street.
The local stores
Are closed now
Shutters drawn
Their eyelids dropped
The pavement dusty
From the wild wind
Which destroyed
The growing crops.
Calloused hands
Now count pennies
All the hard work
To no avail
It seems the winter
Thats forthcoming
In deepest poverty
Will prevail.