Stately golden rain

beyond arches of white

the screeching of a train

hissing from its plight

Backpack in hand

one foot forward

train whistles its command

chugging norward

Black-rimmed eyes

Bearing through the bars of glass

Staring down her own demise

Warped by walls of glass

Shoes snatch in the cracks of stone

backpack spilled to the ebb and flow

blurring the distance between the unknown

of the summerʼs final blow

Of a fault I know too well

dragging in the wake it comes

when will winter die, praytell?

denying the tinge of plums

Hair curling in the drafts

in a time never set

shrinking in the shafts

crying out to please the debt