Honeymoon On the Flying Scotsman
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With a snakelike hiss, the train doors close
the engine rocks and rumbles on clicking
over welded metal couplings: iced, glazed, froze,
the steam heat in clouds arose, rail licking.
On velvet we sit, lace behind our heads,
stewards bring tea for the clock is ticking.
High tea at five, we're fed like thoroughbreds
for dinners late (at eight) in formal dress.
A honeymoon for two not quite purebreds.
1/24/15
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015
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