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||Edwin Drood's Column
||1 October 2013
|Hugh Featherstone waits for the slow train.|
Since last summer there have been
Brahms, Grieg and Sondheim played between
announcements from the rattling screen
of digital departures
The couple move as in a dream
oblivious to the world, they seem
to dance like angels down a beam
of dusty sunlit arches
The empty concourse holds them near
the edge, too vast the surface clear
no other dancers jostle here
their gaze is shy and artless
She loves him and there is no doubt
he loves her too, they float about
a foot above the floor, devout
is vice when it is virtuous
And not a single person there
but does not in their idyll share
and feel within his heart aware
true joy is beyond purchase
And all the romance of the rail
once lost behind the cold-war veil
returns to light this gentle tale
a late composer nurtures
For since last summer you may hear
Bach, Strauss and Gershwin ringing clear
despite the rush, the dust and drear
the world may yet be courteous
From Bird under water, a selection of poems by Hugh Featherstone
© Hugh Featherstone
Another poem from this selection will appear next time the Drood's away.
The Bird under water homepage includes a foreword by Hugh Featherstone
and a linked list of the poems as they appear.
|Edwin Drood's Column, the blog by The Mysterious Edwin Drood,|
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