London

Off to London tomorrow on the late train so this poem seemed apt. Over the next couple of days we will be walking by the Thames, from the palace at Windsor, to Shepperton, Teddington and then Blackfriars where Shakespeare lived for a time. I will be reflecting on the Thames’s place in literature and urban mythology as i walk-and perhaps writing a new poem or two.

Last train from St Pancras

The last train is waiting at the station

With all tension, all motion stilled

On this night of grey- ice, hoar frost,

Know this

Sometimes it is enough just to exist.

On the longer journeys time stops

Is as fixed as every station clock

Under starlight, when nothing stirs.

Perhaps you were the green eyed girl

Who sighed,

As if weary of life’s travails

As if weary of all your lives?

Briefly we shared

Our parallel lines.

Perhaps on some other track

We know each other?

Have shared our dreams

And sit together

Watching the snow flurries come and go

Where the last train waits; forever on the platform.

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