Thursday, 25 May 2017


I take my place on the cold platform
'Tis nothing new, it's quite the norm.
Facing South, I watch and wait;
Should've been here by half past eight.

I stand and wait to see my boy.
When he arrives I'll jump for joy.
They let him out at dawn today
For misdemeanours he did pay.

The stationmaster locks his door,
This starry night he'll work no more.
Bids me goodnight, it's oh so late,
Says, 'when you go, please close the gate'.

'I will, kind sir, see you tomorrow',
He looks at me with such deep sorrow,
For he'll be back same time next night.
A slow train stops. No one alights.

A fast train roars through without a hitch.
For trains stop no more at Middlewich.
The station-master, he's mine host
But, alas, like me, also a ghost...

© Trevor Burton

Lewis Battersby, Middlewich Stationmaster 1920
Photo: David Broughton
This atmospheric poem was written by author Trevor Burton, who lives in Manchester and is better known for his detective fiction.

 Here's a link to his blog, containing  further links to his novels, which are available through Amazon.

Trevor Burton, Author

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