My World A Station

My World Is A Station…

I sit at damp cold part sheltered platform,
my thoughts of you, to soon now exhaust.
Could we have been as lovers just awkward,
are not we more than strangers, now lost.

Quiet are the bells, that rung in my head,
only to your pert sound am I still near.
Incessant were those words you raged,
colours pale the guise left, not unclear

Echoes set to tears, parting bleakest station,
trained are thoughts non taken of subtle line.
Yet true straight, as made hard by steel,
twisting pained taught nerves, are mine.

Order no tickets for a travel wizard such as I,
what evil dare conjure a more miserable heart.
No age limit’s our mad craving for this journey,
seeks no more than fellow companion at start.

Carriage of a souls torment leaves, given passage,
voice tones in static, silence as awakens our morning.
Speak truth, not clipped with cupped hand at mouth,
All change! to late, a porters’ shrilled whistled warning….