Train Trestle

I am eight standing
By the train trestle over
Richmond Creek as my friend
Chuck suggests we walk across
The narrow trestle risking there
May be an oncoming train
And we both conclude
The sooner we start
The less chance we
Will meet a train
A theory that
Lasts only
A short
Time
When we
Hear a train
Whistle so we
Rush back trying
Not to trip and fall
Hopping from cross
Tie to the next staring
Down at the creek about
Fifteen feet below until we
Reach safety where we started
Away from the track as the slow
Freight train rumbles past us
And we lose interest going
On to our next adventure
Any of which would turn
Our a mothers hair
White if they ever
Found out but
Our silence
Protects
Us until
Grown
Up.