The two tone tram came to a stop

at Sheffield Lane Top

in a bright smoky haze

on one of those extraordinary days

that we take for granted

when nothing much is expected to happen

except for moments of history.

 

Jack Braithwaite leaves his tram's controller

to reverse the rows of slatted seats

and sees a passenger against the glass

head crooked forward where the framing meets.

 

Quite soon he sees the man is dead

has gone to the terminus

right to the end.

His life ran out with blunted rails

the mist revealing his awkward bend.

 

A tiny bible lay on the seat

a mute companion against the wood.

Jack thought then how like a church

his tram stood out upon that day

with the fateful ticket upon the floor

as the shell of a life stood in his way.