deepundergroundpoetry.com

Waiting for the Train

The railway track crunched its way
along the silent valley bottom
serpentine  steel bars red with rust
told of years unused, unloved
The promise of holidays tons of coal
not fulfilled for thirty years.
Platforms, once a bedlam of happy children
home for dandelion and burdock,
creaking eaves invaded by swallows
who harvest flies, mosquito too
which miss bare arms and necks,on a day like this,
waiting for the train.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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