Down Line

The Down Line's always quieter than the up

A white cat sniffs along the wall before

It disappears amongst the scrubby trees.

A solitary school-boy, late and bored,

Frets that he is watched and cannot snatch

A quiet fag before he takes the train.

Occasional tourists for Ashford International

Await the two-coach shuttle, late again,

As usual, with no room to sit or place

Your cases.  As it leaves the unseen drone

Proudly proclaims the train will soon be here.

Stillness - and the cat slinks out alone

          Along the wall towards Warrior Square;

          A cigarette's dull haze melts in the air.

Brian Hick September 2008

©copyright Sally Hick 14.9.22