Midsummer Station

I

Found myself catching embers

In a dormant railway,

nearly forgotten

except the tracks still battle,

fighting long and hard,

these wild grasses

and dead dreams.

Embers to ashes,

Ashes to dust into

nothing, looking

at my dirtied palm,

What would I

expect from something

That was once afire?

Like tracks that led to

Somewhere promising

Turned into

Dead dreams and wild grasses

And—stop

There really is nothing here anymore.