The Walk of the Train

As a young boy
I forced my parent
To take the bus
As I weep bleedingly
With mud streaming from my nose

I tear in my pants
At the sight of the gigantic insect
Smoking heavily with its nose
As it shake its tail along
Causing a good chill
on my nerves

His heavy walk
Along the shaded path
Beat my heart
Along with its rails

My lips waters
With bravery fear
At the sight of the dwarf
Consuming people’s face

Smiling back
The early years
I laugh unendingly
At my little self
As I wave goodbye
The walk of the train

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About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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4 Responses to The Walk of the Train

  1. Thandiubani says:

    well done brother!
    you are killing the kill…
    keep the ink bleeding


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