THE EMPTY ROOM

THE EMPTY ROOM Hard wooden seats in a waiting room Feel a draught from an ill-fitting door All I can do here is sit still and stare The last train due back to civilisation I’m here all alone so no conversation A faint smoky scent hovers in the air I wonder if any have sat here before Not even a lamp glows in the gloom Framed posters hang on the pale wall Celebrating the enduring age of steam Smiling families, clearly off to the coast Moonlight as the only dim illumination Closed for years, now a disused station I sit still and ponder, quiet as a ghost I’m not here of course, it’s just a dream This is an image that I somehow recall