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,
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
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.