See the Silhouette Express
run along beside
us the real thing
through copse & comb & cuttings
its shadow train
journeying
through the countryside
of childhood
past the Past
& into a place
where memory & longing
begin &
begin
again
throwing smoke
over its shoulder
as elegantly as a lady
wrapping herself in a stole
against the cold
as we watch
little man-made clouds
roll by
screaming with the whistle
“All abroad! ”
“All abroad! ”
“...for the Silhouette
Express! ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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