by Percy Peters
A poem about people and train travel
|Looking through the glass, a smile on your face just as before,
Smiling. Lucky, to see a Magpie or two,
Or a rabbit in the tall grass, that stretches the view from you,
To the world beyond the fence.
You’re on the train once again.
The train is where we spend,
Our time looking out, instead of looking in.
As strange as we are, we wear silence like a coat of arms, to ward off the Stranger.
The muffled sounds of favourite songs echo along the lines we’ve drawn,
Our features, beacons of our solace, in the vacant glare of our silver screens.
Fellow passengers’ face only caught in passing glances.
It’s worth a thought,
That our friends today were once no more than a passing face,
We’ve breached the comfortable cavern of the window seat,
to make these people, mean much more.
So there it is,
The elderly couple, the suited and booted, and the noisiest of kids,
As well as the one that captures more than just your smile,
The same passengers, on the train once again,
Could be special,
If we looked in, for just a little while.