(Another train yard is a great subject for light, texture and color. Paul captures all in this painting.)

Rusted, weary, old and broken, yet a refuge lies within,

Tank cars filled with precious liquids, held together by a pin,

Hoppers, flatcars and gondolas – heavy weights of girth and brawn,

Box cars, freight cars and cabooses, worn but ready at the dawn.

Graffiti painted on the walls, box cars groan their ghostly calls,

To a homeless man and woman, beckoning within its walls,

For a while this will mean safety, from the bitter cold outside,

Temporary sanctuary, for them safely to abide.

The train yards fill with lonely souls, waiting for just one free ride,

Long enough to get them through,  to a refuge where to hide,

As those transcients just passing through, longing for the fresh and new,

Settling for what they are given, wandering…

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