Visions
The Old Caboose in Winter
Sitting on blocks
underneath the stars,
and the snow-covered pines,
Old Number 114, from the now abandoned
Chestnut Ridge Railway.
The cupola a sleeping loft,
and a old pot bellied stove for heat.
Icicles hand from the edge of the roof,
a fence and a gate
help root it to the ground
where it rests.
And the whistle of a train
sounds in the distance.
O cabin car, come home
So we may end our days
after many an adventurous journey
over many weary miles,
with peace and usefulness
to the last.
underneath the stars,
and the snow-covered pines,
Old Number 114, from the now abandoned
Chestnut Ridge Railway.
The cupola a sleeping loft,
and a old pot bellied stove for heat.
Icicles hand from the edge of the roof,
a fence and a gate
help root it to the ground
where it rests.
And the whistle of a train
sounds in the distance.
O cabin car, come home
So we may end our days
after many an adventurous journey
over many weary miles,
with peace and usefulness
to the last.
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The Old Caboose in Winter
The Old Caboose in Winter
