On Platform Two of Basingstoke Station One Night in October
By TheShyAssassin
Sun, 14 Oct 2018
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2 comments
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Trains, on a Saturday night.
They thunder in. Pause for a while.
They thunder out.
They carry the lost and the loveless.
Through the black dark to a hoped-for home.
A girl. A boy.
So matched. So shy. So lonely.
A hundred more miles to Manchester.
As silent they gaze at the luring lights of Reading, then Oxford.
And they muse, alone with their thoughts.
Are kisses in Birmingham?
Caresses in Stoke?
Travelling they say, is better than arriving.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
Enjoyed this. I know that
Enjoyed this. I know that feeling. Arrivals are often a disappointment.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
a face on the bus?
Life is a journey they say, a romance that could have been &
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