Why should poetry be all about love?
Why should it be all of despair?
Can’t it be about coffee cups and bar stools?
Can it be something of which we don’t care?
I committed to musing on train timetables
Not because I hold any devotion
Neither because I have a fascination
For box carriages and engines in motion.
But because, like the high peaked mountain
Like the elicit but romantic affair
I thought to and chose train timetables
Quite simply, because they were there.
There on the wall where they sit for view
For the uncertain traveller and some
Who already know their chosen platform
And what time their train will come.
Trains like lovers come and they go
We choose platform five or perhaps two
In hope that we’lll catch the next trip
And if not, then the one after will do.
The timetable stacks up with its numbers
With columns of certainty and sure
And I wonder if we added those numbers all up
Would we find one, in essence quite pure.
I wonder if train timetables can represent love?
Can they reflect death and despair?
Can they open the hearts of their readers?
Can they reach out to those in a stare?
My train timetable speaks to my heart
Glenroy Train, Flinders Street, Platform 5
Brings me closer to you my darling girl
And that’s when I’m truly alive.
Copyright © 2017 Grant Fenton – All Rights Reserved