It is four ten

as I board the train

waiting on platform one,

It leaves at four thirty

right on the dot

not a second beyond

will it stop.

I sit inside

as the driver passes by

wonder how often

he travels this line.

Look up at the ornate

Victorian station

wrought iron supports

 and huge glass roofing,

then I notice how the sun has gone

leaving the sky is divided,

one side is blue

the other as though

the night has arrived.

I am in this carriage

all by myself

maybe that will change,

its seven minutes or so

before we leave

as I glance a clock

that panics every second

as if declaring

oh how time flies.

Then on platform two

a train rolls in

its come from where I am heading.

I watch as the hands

await to unlock the doors

while the train slowly halts

at the platform.

Then as they alight

a whistle is blown

it is seconds before four thirty,

the engine of this train

burst into life

suddenly we are moving.

I am still alone

in this first class carriage

like a VIP

that no one knows,

maybe that will alter

with five stops to go

till we reach our destination,

until then

shall I wave to people

who stand on a nearby platform.