Think of all the coins along the track
And the people who once set them there,
But never did come back.
Finding even half of them, a rich man I would be.
But these steel rails surrender none to me.
Now the iron giants rust along a road
Near a town southeast of Newberry
Where stories are still told
Of railroad days and lumbermen and many an engine light,
While a ghost train in the distance splits the night.
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Photo and poem from Peter Wurdock’s book, Places I Hide, photos and poetry of Michigan's Upper Peninsula published on Ridgeway Press. Peter is active in the Metropolitan Detroit community and works as Marketing Director for a leading non-profit senior housing agency. For more information visit: www.Vacationpublishing.com |
