From Birmingham New Street

Trains once took you to lovers
Flying like
a bullet
Nothing could go faster.

Greying, quiet,
You sway again,
Now feel you are
Not on this train.

Its lights slide off
The hills' red rose.
You watch it go
As your eyes close.

Alison Brackenbury

If you've any comment on this poem, Alison Brackenbury would be pleased to hear from you.