DIRECTIONS/MISDIRECTIONS Poem by Barry Tebb

I sit inside the train of tears

The station mellow in shade

Unoriginal phrases air-brush the canvas.



Puzzling minds I wonder

If all are like my own

Closed to stillness.



From girders hang the acrobats of gone

Pearl grey Whistlers. We sat on

A train like this once, you and I,

Face to face but travelling

In opposite directions-

Or was it you alone I watched depart,

Stood on the platform edge, anxious and alert?