Coal

by kangarooseamstress

You stand forlorn and rigid.

I’m moving away, I’m moving away.

The smoke, it wisps, and the horn, it blows.

You stand stock still but jaunty, almost as if time has stood with you.

‘Come back’, you say, ‘I don’t care anymore’.

I’m moving away, I’m moving away.

You leave me, or is it I you?

You’re replaced by trees and smoke.

Still smoke, blowing, and the horn, blowing.

A loud rattle and distant lowing.

I’m moving away, I’m moving away.

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