Buffers

By forest_for_ever

Sat, 19 Oct 2013
  • 1303 reads
3 comments
 

On a journey always looking forwards

Peering, searching for the signal

That means my life’s on track.

Hauling heavy trucks of guilt

Bound for a choice of destinations

One white, the other black.

I’ve had the odd derailment

And often found the grade too steep.

Yet my faithful fireman mate

Kept shovelling all the same.

Sweating, straining, never complaining,

Pausing briefly, she wiped her sweat-soaked brow.

I just held the throttle open wide

And calling urged her on.

Peering through uncertain darkness,

Station’s rest must surely come.

But now I see the buffers up ahead

That ends this life of mine.

No loop of life, no circular tour.

Only an urgent message flashing.

‘This is the end of the line.’

Certificate U
Poem
My Twighlight Days
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Interesting allegory, cleverly woven.  Quite a tribute to your helper mate too!

I remember doing something like this for children once.

In Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, he lost his 'heavy trucks of guilt' tugging on his back when he came to the cross, and realised that's where mercy was bought and could take them away for him!

Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Sooz006 on

‘This is the end of the line.’ ... great last line, second one of yours I've read today and I prefer this one. 

 

 

 

 

 

Submitted by forest_for_ever on

Thank you.  I appreciate the comment.  It means a lot to me.