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