Occasional Impressions

Gemini Twin

Second Spring

I have grown old.

The points were switched beneath my wheels
My bogies jolted, hung in air,
Then crashed upon the sleepers
Wake, the hour is come -
The tryst of ways, none permanent
Was signalled - treacherously.

Lo, in the cabin there, the bells are ringing
Another train is due, he knows not whence,
Nor yet whereto.

How many stations on that line,
How many changes, checks, and works to rule?
Come out and meet him:
It is time - for games?
No more, the bridegroom comes in sight,
And, straining, lifts the shattered flanges clear
While, toiling, he repairs the track
And waves the go-ahead
For night is flying - away, far away
The watchmen on the heights are crying
Is yet this the right train?
A relayed voice interrupted:
Midnight’s past; All change!
This service terminates here.

Surely he will come, though I am growing old.
jdy - mar 1973

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