Smoke and Mirrors

~*~

Behind a model train, people there set.

Their never to worry nor do they fret.

The whistles blow at regular times.

Conductors conduct and the poet rhymes.

~

Silence fills the darkest of night.

A world dead ‘til morning’s light.

A flick of a switch then life turns on.

A flick of a switch and all is gone.

~*~

Sck041218

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