Forty-two years ago (to me if to no one else
The number is of some interest) it was a brilliant starry night
And the westward train was empty and had no corridors
So darting from side to side I could catch the unwonted sight
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Poetry with such powerful lines leaving great impact on the reader...In time for me to catch it, which light when It does get here may find that there is not Anyone left alive
Whoever posted this, please check you haven't displaced 'remembering this' to 'this remembering'?
The voice recordings of all these poems are truly destructive...it would be so much nicer to have a non-roboticised reading