I rumble along the
unending track, along the iron rails,
Far below, a solitary truck leaves a wisp of smoke in its trail,
As I pass a massive gnarled tree,
Wistful recollections
awaken within me.
One fateful day in 1943,
As I passed a huge, gnarled tree,
A carriage overturned and
I was swept over the rail,
The last sound I heard was the guard’s terrified wail.
I learned from the damage
I had to bear,
Now I am a train with expertise rare,
As I climb a precipice that other trains find hard to access,
I smile to myself, saying that failures are the pillars of success.
|
E-mail
