Clang

Clang

In the early morning railway yard,
the steel wheels strike the rails with a clang,
a sharp, bright note that slices the mist,
echoing off brick arches and distant factories.

It is the sound of industry awakening,
a metallic chorus that reverberates
through the cobbled streets,
where lorries rumble and trams sigh.

Each clang is a heartbeat of iron,
a reminder that progress is forged
in the heat of furnaces and the sweat
of hands that shape the world.

When the day wanes and the light turns amber,
the clang softens, a lingering resonance,
like a memory tucked into the soul of the city,
waiting for the next dawn to strike again.