Sunday, June 28, 2009

lonesome fondness

The whistle of a train afar is an instrument of loneliness. Even when the boy from Indiana with a checkered bandana watches the girl's hair fall down to her neck as we lay in the shade under a mushroom shaped sycamore.

3 Comments:

Blogger Blog Princess G said...

Haunting post title and words of course. Hoping all is well along your path. :)

7/01/2009 12:00 AM  
Blogger willow said...

Indiana is the place.

7/03/2009 9:54 AM  
Blogger The Clever Pup said...

Hear the lonesome whipperwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train
is whining low
I'm so lonesome I could cry

A train rumbles through the bottom of the garden of my childhood home. I love the bass.

7/03/2009 10:59 AM  

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