The Train
The train…..
pants into the station and…. sighs;
it slows breathless and agitated,
pressurised by persistent punctuality
but still appreciating its day’s outing.
An orchestra of noise is now played out
with a percussion of sounds:
a brass section of brakes,
a windwood selection of operating doors,
announcements announced in tenor form.
Passengers tip out onto the platform,
sprinting off to win whatever race they are in;
others fumbling with defiant luggage
or stumbling over rebellious children.
Swiftly, the train draws a deep breath,
readying and steadying itself for the off.
Clickety-clack and it ambles down the track,
dips under a lazing bridge before rushing away;
a row of oak trees racing along to keep up!
On board, new passengers chittering with chatter,
settling into the swing and sway of the carriages,
delighting in the positivity of moving forward,
engaged by flickering screens of windows.
Diverse countryside scenes dance passed,
passengers lost in the rhythm of the rails
clicking pictures in their mind's eye.
Images created for future times;
the laying down of tracks of nostalgia.
The train now shoulders its way forward,
elbowing towards a final destination;
the window screens are now night time viewing
as the dark slowly, steadily… drags itself in.
Ian Souter 2025
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