Written coming into Stourbridge Junction 29th May 2012

 

Passengers must not cross the line

An epitaph for a lingering death of times occasionally sublime,

Travellers lovers and would be friends

Attempting to wander over fertile ground

Once so profound

Passengers must not cross the line.

 

By car, by train, by plain, by boat, adventurers in love.

In time, all passion will change, decline

Where once we would drive, sing songs, seduce and dare

Now laid bare in foreign fields of sweltering heat

We stare and reset the rules.

Do not cross the line.

 

Confusing this sensory memory existentially External interventions of revulsion or fear that passengers still cross the line.

 

So if this is journeys end and you my love will never tread my path again

If to remain sane, I or you walk away, now, today

Then let my heart, my head, my residual memory be

Of summers gone, 

and passengers who once crossed the line.