<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lonely Train<\/strong><\/p>\n Sat, on a train, Unless they\u2019re looking at the girl She\u2019s always reading a book.<\/p>\n My reflection disappears So, because I\u2019m in a train poem I should But we\u2019re in open country.<\/p>\n Of course I could see a girl. Which is a pain Missing all these essential railway poem people and plots I smile. Pointlessly, because no wry reflected image smiles back. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Pete Goodrum<\/strong> is a Norwich based freelance writer and broadcaster. A committee member of Cafe Writers, Pete writes for magazines, a range of commercial clients and has four best selling\u00a0 books of local history to his name. He broadcasts on radio and tv.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Lonely Train Sat, on a train, I watch my reflection in the glass. Because that\u2019s what everybody does in a train poem. Unless they\u2019re looking at the girl in the opposite seat. They do that to wonder where she\u2019s going and ponder on how they\u2019ll never see her again. She\u2019s always reading […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9335"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9335\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9339,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9335\/revisions\/9339"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI watch my reflection in the glass.
\nBecause that\u2019s what everybody does
\nin a train poem.<\/p>\n
\nin the opposite seat.
\nThey do that to wonder where she\u2019s going
\nand ponder on how they\u2019ll never see her again.<\/p>\n
\nbecause it\u2019s broad daylight.
\nThere is no girl either. Nor book.<\/p>\n
\nstare out at the people and their patios,
\nand their plastic chairs and pointless lives.<\/p>\n
\nPerhaps the one who isn\u2019t on my train and therefore not in my poem.
\nShe\u2019s the train poem person who is in her upstairs window
\nand I\u2019m supposed to ponder on how I\u2019ll never see her again.<\/p>\n
\nbecause in train poems she\u2019s usually naked.<\/p>\n
\nI stare\u00a0 pointlessly out
\nwith no reflection. Except I reflect on
\nmy astonishment at the speed
\nof the hurtling bird
\nkeeping pace with my rolling\u00a0 carriage.<\/p>\n
\nI feel an extra sadness
\nas I realise that
\nthe bird\u2019s not there either.
\nIt\u2019s a mark on the window.<\/p>\n