London to Brighton
There’s a life a life, a glimpse of a life
in a terrace a row where the railway runs
and weary I wonder and dream of the lives
for more than a century here
lining the railway, planting their plots
a tree grown as tall as the roof
stories in storeys
always an ear to the train
the rumble and roll
no longer the steam
rattling over the points.
The life, the life, in a pattern it runs
express to the seaside, the airport, the south
timetables, schedules, circadian rhythms
the daily the weekly unceasing it flows
and watching the window, a film all unspooling
city to seaside, allotments and parks, suburbs and fields
I dream of the lives all lining the railway
and out of the pen the black ink is flowing
disgorging the poem in lines and in verses
then into the station, a sigh and a silence
a full-stop complete at the end of the line.
April 9th 2025 , London to Brighton train
