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I couldn’t sleep last night
These times had me feeling not right
There were images swirling round 
And try as I might I couldn’t shake being down

So I walked around the town 
Finding no solace in what I found
Stepping in to the old railway station 
I wandered the platform contemplating no explanation 

There had been a redness to  the sky
From the suns intense bombardment high
So I looked down the railway line
And I saw a steam engine with its light on shine

At first I thought it was a trick in my hearing
But as it journeyed closer I realised it was silent not endearing
So fascinated I watched it as it pulled into the station
Still silent it stopped with a final steam exaltation

There was only one passenger present
Who stepped off the train not hesitant 
But stranger still he was in uniform
Khaki serge with slouch hat left side turned up worn

And he walked straight past me 
In spritely steps with a swagger you see
Into the station waiting room 
Standing at a plaque on the wall in the gloom

I followed him in and read the plaque there
In remembrance of a local lost in the Great War snare
He disappeared as I approached him not to scare
Looking around I pondered this night’s fare.

© Paul Warren Poetry

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