return to London Euston

the light now failing
cast a ghostly misted haze
across the sod and hedges
lingering in hollows
drifting the bowl earth
of the ploughed autumnal plains

above
ribbons of yellow hope
adorned the sky
holding promise
great store for the future
tomorrow's abundant wealth
sleepy passengers
stiff legs
numb stretch
and grimace
sped down the iron parallel
self reflecting
unawares
chatter, rumble clatter
a gentle carriage roll
lulled and lugged
towards
the seething city
an urban rumour
a bad omen whispering
from the breath
of a pitch dark tunnel
a tube of provincial air
drove it from its lair
warm and friendly
innocent of the route
destined for release
on a harsh and grimy platform
port of social gravity
the mass of London
seemed impossible
when glancing at the darkened
still of the sidings
the graves of slung street objects
cones and rusting signs
open cast
beside the tracks
stranded last point
thrown by hands
drunk
high spirited
youthful
thud and foliage
rot and rust
left in place unloved

above the ribbons screamed red
night rolling
sun set westward
last battle cry
fading as the sodium
of suburban street light
ate the poets sky