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The passing train

The sun reflects on silver blades
Held firm below the trees
A band of haze cuts through the sky
And melts into the breeze

A shadow's cast upon the fields
And flickers in the grass
A rumble passes overhead
A clatter comes through fast

Tree branches wave the passing breeze
While sheep just sit and graze
And all too soon it's still again
Behind the passing train


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© A.Boodoo, 01-May-98