Brimsdown

The weeping willow by the station house

Droops towards the level crossing gates;

Workmen boarding up the waiting room

Roll on the matt grey while he waits

The usual late arrival from the East.

The palette-works behind the down line clank

Against the latent blur of Radio One

Though he's oblivious as his earphones blank

Reality, white Metro keeps his mind

On Harry Potter, Horoscopes and Sport -

Anything but sense what's really there

At half-past seven, before the day was wrought

          Its dullness on a soul already lost

          To all the brightness life at him has tossed.

Brian Hick 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 8.7.22