jerome

when last my hands felt these curves
was with my bronze age beauty
to follow this road’s many swerves
is my grateful sacred duty

while once i had idly ventured
to the brink of this copper stage
to this zig-zagged road indentured
i return deep in this golden age

up the switchbacks we roam
to the black hills of jerome
the once-rich copper catacomb
that hid beneath caldera dome
where once ten thousand called home
now ghosts of ages past still roam

drawn by allure of copper lust
many people built this mile-high haven
above naked desert placed their trust
not a place for the weak or craven
families into mine-life thrust
burned these hills black as raven
close-knit ones did all they must
until the mines all went bust
ore cars and rails turned to rust
abandoned homes turned to dust

up the switchbacks we roam
to the black hills of jerome
where once ten thousand called home
now ghosts of ages past still roam

Advertisements

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s