Layers of memory revived

like the clouds and steam

drifting in a journey behind glass

travelling as before

always in second class.

 

Savouring one last visit to the past

peppered with loving detail

of mad rail highway vistas

fellow passengers

bound together by impending death

sharing one final wish fulfilment

like a last cigarette.

 

Then a ticket collector came

calling out everyone's name.

"Many happy returns," I said

and many laughed,

but none seemed jarred

by casual humour misplaced.

 

And the loco lurched in its hot channel

to take on a breathless viaduct with distant views

almost too impressive to bear.