Friday, 5 February 2010


I wish a train would come - it’s cold concrete

and a spiky morning hedge turning black to green

in winter light. Where is our bloody train?

We need to move away, transmute this muted scene!

But everything is flat in early dawn

and cold - so people hop and stamp (not in a pirouette)

because, loose or stiff, we dance like kids

who haven’t learnt their choreography yet.

Although this train is 3 then 5 then 10 minutes late

there are people, one or two,

who carry green-blue lamps behind their lids

knowing, if they look, a train will come;

that light comes shining through.

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