The 6.15 from Paddinton goes chugging down the track,
The Guard blows on his whistle, and the engine whistles back.
The carriages are following, swaying as they go,
The passengers are also swaying to and fro.
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How is it Ernestine that you seem to be able to hold a precious moment almost in your hand.A beautiful bird of somekind that feeds from your words and our eyes glance. Knowing that as it flies away so that others may see it's beauty, so also it will return to you with food to feed you and so much more than you thought you had offered it.Beautiful words from a beautiful poetic bird in flight.Love Duncan
I've taken this London to Cardiff train many times, although not in the age of steam. A lovely poem that conjures up the age of steam admirably though. The days when a long journey like this was a real adventure rather than the routine journey it is nowadays. A nicely paced poem too that uses a lot of word patterns to create the feel of a moving train.
The old days of steam recaptured by your lovely flowing words. Great write. Andrew x