Rolling stock metal-on-metal glides
Cutting a swathe through English countryside
Measuring relentlessly the length of our land
Day diminishing unspoken under God’s hand
We sit, facing each other but not speaking
Carriages grinding and dry brakes squeaking
Rhythmically topping sleepers set under the track
Sun setting quickly as the day turns it’s back
Porters staggering and lurching, replenishing our cups
Spying from the window, cables looping up, and down and up
All dreaming of home; the journey’s highlight
Viewing in fast forward, England in twilight
Paul Gerard Reed
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/train-ride-5/
