It was long past sundown. 

The heat and moisture of the night 
mingled together in a sweltering haze. 

People sat in iron-wrought chairs, drinking and talking, 
as the halos of lamp lights revealed bronze goblins 
playing in gardens of stone. 

Gentle guitar fingers, tender and soothing, 
worked the cares from a weary world. 

Among sleeping cars, one wheel danced. 




Copyright © 2002 Lewis W Beard