The Station Poem by Vision Ghost

The Station



Darkness, late and now the night time has thus descended
Sitting on a bench, knowing this journey should’ve ended
Though with unconquerable delays, I sit here now so alone
Everyone’s asleep and there isn’t a single friend, to phone

Well past midnight and the chill in the air, holding in grips
My breath leaving trails, to join the already swirling mists
Tired and considering my bed, at the other end of this line
Needing of some caffeine, even a vending will do just fine

But change is plentiful, as said machine is typically broken
So head back down the steps, to my lonely bench unspoken
So silent this place is now, contrast from its daily barrage
Of public transported commuters, in office attire do salvage

The smallest of details, become very visible as the lights fail
To illuminate this place, as a moth from somewhere sets sail
I watch its clumsy path through the air, to nearby somewhere
Not a voice, not a soul, not even the merest sound on the air

Directions of dim public lighting, almost obscured by the fog
Noises of the day now in total eclipse, as my mind is a slog
Of recalling the moments of my final days, before goodbyes
This my final train to home, after such an inaugural exercise

A wino staggers down on the platform, and yells at a shrub
I try to not notice, thankfully he passes out on the bench hub
The air is crisp and breathable, lungs enjoying the ease again
Silver of the tracks, seem to reflect the moon in some vain

I follow the lines as they disappear, into the black of a tunnel
So far have I come, as the last leg of this cross country channel
From the south of Dorset to be now, in sight of North Wales
If time could move a bit quicker, and to give wind to my sails

Next to me on the ground, is a cigarette butt discarded, dropped
Wondering how it got missed, when a cleaner came and mopped
How irrelevant are these thoughts, when bored and on my own
Sitting alone on a bench past midnight, on a station made of stone

The flicker notice above me, claps the boards to now announce
That my train is to soon arrive, and now is my time to pounce
As sure enough the light doth comes, from the tunnel of black
So I rise, pick up my bag, and onward down, go upon the track

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Vision Ghost

Vision Ghost

Epsom, East Surrey
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