Another journey, returning, can't be sure on that, my life is a tad bi-polar.
Anyway, needs, gents, phone charge, dump.bags, hiatus, without a hernia,
maybe even a swift half.
Greyhounds to greet, first!
'Sawley Junction' Busy, but not packed.
Barred, by thirsty punters, but not permanently.
So divert; turns out the gents, unisex
and mind that gap,
not only at this station, or any.
Default question in such a place, micro pub, porter? No, oaten stout, yes, please.
Sits to survey another hell of a day
and functional lighting gantries.
Couple(s), businessman, oh yes, on a business call,
in for a quiet pint, him or me?
Woman, can't work out, young?
On her phone, head down.
Oh for a wristwatch, 1848 train
and no way to know …
No where to go, really, yet.
Grab mobile, bags,
fragrant Laurel clippings next my nose.
And lavender, for sleep under pillow.
But that little less tonight.
As I passed towards the door,
phone put aside,
you looked up and smiled.
Shy, confident, I'm not to know now.
It was one of those, too many in life,
'oh hello … goodbye then' smiles.
And I just time to register,
ah, a little older, life, smiling.
And so, Long Eaton station.
On the border, on the cusp between
cold reality and a far warmer dream.
Sit with the electronic realisation,
sod - came out ten minutes,
at least, too early, kicks heels.
Because, realisation, a pint, probably,
not more than two.
Could have had us, together with questions;
local, travelling, the other, a 'friend',
who did not show?
Maslow, maybe I will develop a thirst, again!
5th September, 2019