There’s no stopping it,
A new town’s always ahead,
A new place, for a new life
Or old ones returning again.
We’ve got time to pass, so settle in,
A train’s motion is not for wasting.
Wagged chins over rattling teacups
Resting in cacophonous carriages
Drown wasted time in dipped biscuits
As folded newspapers remain unread
And whole countrysides pass
Without so much as a thought.
A lonely girl writes in a quiet corner,
Alone but for her troubles, her suite
Better suited to the ghost of a poet
Whose eternity is in motion
Carrying emotion from one cab
To the next, delivering the full force
Of shaking fingers over bumpy tracks
Who just want to get off the line.