As I look out of the window
My head laid back against the cushion
Of my side lower berth
My eyes open wider and wider
As they gaze upon the surroundings
The trees, the bushes, the greenery
The mountains, the tunnels, the bridges
The surrounding railway lines, the crossing trains
It is a vivid, and most enchanting dream
However, all good things come to an end
All of a sudden, I am ****** back to reality
As I feel a tingling sensation
I swing around in alarm
And see a creepy little cockroach
Scuttle across the seat
Evidently having made its home here
As I angrily brush the insect aside
I keep my fingers crossed
Hoping against hope
That this is the exception to the rule
After all, hope springs eternal
However, as always, Murphy's law strikes
The little devil is soon followed
By its brother, sister, father and mother
As a family of these incorrigibly evil pests
Unleash a reign of terror
Such that, even the most diehard railfans
Vow never to seet foot in an Indian train again
Especially in a non-AC coach
Frankly, this is the last straw
That broke the hapless camel's back
Dear Railway Minister
You may introduce bullet trains
You may electrify the entire network
You may connect India with China
But, unless and until the day arrives
When we can travel in a clean train
Without the numbing and overpowering fear
Of these evil pests and rodents
Your words mean as much to us
As grass to a lion or tiger

what forests are those we pass,
blazing along the railway tracks,
a tree bloom of still cranes,
stream black of ******* bane,

stench of dead city rubble,
factories of rusted cast metal,
distant cotton twilight skies,
sun slide across a bunch of wires,    

passing tunnels echo
lonely platforms, frantic gecko,
looming hillside,
crackle dry wood fire,

a god barred in lock&key, 
blink glimpse of the sea 
one rush of vision,
pebble fling at frisson,

metal-crunch rhythm,
grind music sublime,
spark, grunt, grate,
we arrive, we dissipate...

Here I am; waiting,
Waiting for an old friend
On a deserted Railway Station.
She’s late; knew she would be.
Time behaves differently in
Such public places; very differently.

I stood waiting alone,
Then a gaggle of women
Clattered up the subway.
Stilettos and thick, heeled boots,
Beating out an echoing tattoo,
On the broad, concrete steps.

Now we wait together,
Myself and a Hen Party.
Blending of emotional alloys
Fused together, forming
Excitement; then I see her
And all heads turn to look.

Amongst the flower boxes,
Silence blossoms on the
Platform as my old friend
Glides serenely into the station,
She’s late; knew she would be
Even so, she’s on time for me.

Steam unfurls around her,
Billowing majestic clouds
Crowning this, ‘Queen of
The Rails’, last seen when
I was a boy, now in manhood
Her unsung glory is truly revered.

Steel wheels clatter, a rhythmic
Tattoo, then she draws to a halt.
Old friend from a previous age
Escaping through to this century,
Thronged by beautiful women, I
Smile, and step aboard a true beauty.

©Paul M Chafer 2014