Chapter (9) THE RED SEATS

WRITTEN AFTER A RECENT TRAIN JOURNEY.

The red seats stand, stiff, straight, empty waiting

Too small, too tight, cramped, no space.

People wait, then rush and push to fill the red seats

Jostling, squeezing, contesting, as in a race

 

The peaceful clatter of past times' steamed rails

Lost, just as the high speed life we lead.

A voice announces incoherent above the diesels drone,

the countryside flashes blurred in windowed speed.

 

Small children, by trying parents kept amused.

A papers' repeated rattle of turned page rages.

Laughter lifts the spirit, thoughts twist in the head

Gently rocking my journey through lifes' pages.

 

The red seats half empty wait in rows.

at each stopped station more journeys start.

Nameless faces sit opposed and dare not speak

A glance, a smile, all to brief and then to part.