Still Dreaming of Dawning Sky

What's on my plate is what's on my plate
No need to look for other definitions
Like those that ride on the tail winds
Of rusting steam engine trains
That cast off traces of shadow
Lingering on past the due date

What escape clause has written smokey remains
Suggesting hesitation in the burnt landscape
Of better days just around the bend
As the song is etched eternally
In a full moon behind closed eyes

Still dreaming of dawning sky 

What, becomes the least likely answered
Until an expired timeline moves a notch
Past cumbersome measure of calculations
Unraveling wavelengths of distant stars
A few degrees here, there and hereafter
As reflections grind on and retool

I scour and wonder if power of suggestion
Said by a plaque on the wall most ignore
Can sit so idle until a dusting is requested
And the reception is like tapping Midnight
On the shoulder and simply asking is there more

I sort of wonder what Gene Autry felt
In a private seat bolted down and inactive
As the dots ran up and down the field
In traditional manner under bright lights
Trying to recapture another celluloid frame
Where second wind lies in mist of hope

Who wins the race doesn't really matter
For only one participant has entered to run
On a course with but circumspect tomorrows
As they meander out of reach and vaguely teach
Change is like lightning and slow as a turtle