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
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