Between the cold and draughty waiting rooms
Stern men with grave and greyer voices wait
For a change, for a thaw, for news from the radio, but
Unanswered broadcasts are sent without reply.
Some wooden benches dragged around a stove
The porous insulation of last stands
Diluted and dissolved in snow globe skies.
Yellow fingernails through old gloves poke
The dial melts as fast as church stained glass
Harsh static, flicker and mirage of sound
Cankers exponential loss of hope.
Delayed, delayed again, the homebound train
The waiting riders who regale with cultural
Tales and touchpoints, progressivelly removed
‘Til home becomes myth, legend and empty stage
The dented tea urn barely simmers now -
Its steam slowed down and hanging in mid-air.
The clock, long stopped, still strikes and fills the room
And lights that once burned bright replaced by shadow.
Outside, below the platform and fresh snow
On steel tracks, on settled sleepers of stone
Lines defy perspective and dim time
And normal service must resume at once.