Yes, I remember Grateley,
But there wasn’t a lot to see;
My train stopped there one day,
As, to Salisbury, I made my way.
Nobody got on and nobody got off;
I remember hearing somebody cough.
Every second train sped straight through,
But, up to the bare platform, my train drew.
The village appeared to be so very small,
And I was surprised they had a station at all.
It was a bright and breezy summer’s morn.
Far in the distance, I saw fields of corn.
I remember seeing the station sign,
And hearing the church bells gaily chime.
One thing which happened to catch my eye
From the window, as we cruised slowly by,
Was a plant container made out of wood,
In which golden daffodils proudly stood.
Our train, once again, soon set in motion,
Passing fields of corn waving like oceans.
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Comments about this poem (Grateley by Angela Wybrow )
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