Journey By Train - Poem by Len Webster
Am I reaching the pale stretch home now?
Wire-lines are confused and a complex pattern
Is weaving its changing way past scrapyards
And ghost-inhabited derelict stations.
Brushwood is sparse yet a thick undergrowth has
Busied its way skyward at the point
Where the canal intersects us, where the ghost
Of horse-beef nightly pulls the boat on.
Clouds come together but lights glint at a distance,
An ever-diminishing distance between this body and home.
A black and yellow windmill on a white base in
The garden of plenty, a floodlit lineside spectacle
For passengers on board this comfort creature
Which snakes insidiously home, the last stop
Of this, the last train in the night.
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