Depot #81

Depot #81by James Landrith

Creatively spent, you came and you went.
No glory to hope, just burntout excess.
The best is past, the sands through the glass.
All hope is gone, you must move on.

No destination,
No fare, for the wretched souls ride free.
No worries about what’s yet to be.
It’s all past, a blurred memory.


Copyright © 1991 James A. Landrith, Jr. All rights reserved.

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