(A true story)
The clouds were a grey blanket.
Rain fell on the awning in a gentle shower
Rattling like boiling water on a gas stove.
People were wearing after-work weariness,
Standing under the awning, checking their watches.
The brown stone church cut lines in the blanket,
Looking brighter on a clouded day
Than on clear ones.
Then the church bell called.
The heavy gong of sombre timbre,
Marking the passage of time,
Cutting into the station.
People heard and adapted.
Yes, it was six o’clock,
Another day ended, time for home.
And then a train arrived.
Simon Lenthen c 9.11.92