The Tracks

Glimmers at first. Now - a remnant.
Faithful but inward. Hospitable. Build there?
Old stones on this side of the tracks.
The roots of a heart on the other.

Homemade quilts in the backyard of a stranger.
Cookies. Koolaid. Safety. Concern.
Exhaust through the cornfields leads from emptiness
To mint chocolate chip
And craft paint.

The dwindling.
A restart? A regenesis? A death? A rebirth?
The bridge crosses the tracks & beckons me home.
Will I walk it? Will I go? Can I make it that far?