Trains supply reliability,
A pulse of pliability
Amongst the torso.
Vibrations course to rhythm's warming arm,
Steel's charming song upon the sleepers;
A blunt alarm
Gives reassurance to the gardens.
The choir hardens
With the siren of the Tender
And the Car Protection System
With its slender shrill
A snake around an action of misdeed.
Take heed of traffic hum
As it spreads its calm
Upon a pandemonium
And come, great train,
Whose song adorns paternal comfort
With a cloak of steel,
Vibrations and the rhythm of the wheel,
Still charming on the sleepers.
You are an ancient god,
Found being in the workings of the cog,
And worthy of respect,
Reliability and strength
In circumspect reunions
On the hour.
The obvious is not a path I would take
Through London's gateways,
Clinging with lament.
If I close my eyes, I am away again,
On a Brecon hillside, spent from a day of jazz,
Draining the earthy humour
From a Swansea posse
Up for the weekend.
Then the gentle arm of a train,
Rhythmically taking the bend,
Whispers on iron in the open air,
And makes me forget.
This is a sleepless walk;
Talk of dreams behind a window
That is plainly urban.
Where shall we now,
This dream and I?
Shall we snatch a dance before the city fox
Rattles a fence with its auburn tail
And bursts the map;
Scatters the trail away.
The sea is calm, the sun is going down
This lovely morning I went walking
by Pete Crowther