Steam

I stepped into a haze one day
Its coal it did but smoulder
A fleeting mist I came across
Passed through, around my shoulders.

Streaming smoke around its wheels
Thick fog it breathed did hasten
Moved slowly first from standing still
Mechanical its traction.

Piped hot by force the steam did get
It started then to whistle
Upon its tracks to get ahead
Hissed loud and sometimes sizzled.

Blazed keen inside the boiler dwelled
Escaped through tall projection
This motive might is self-propelled
Train journey’s revolution.