Those old railway engines
Were certainly impressive
To my child's eyes, black,
Sleek shiny and massive,
Hissing and belching steam
As though held on a rein,
Waiting the flag and whistle
To pull off the waiting train.
Smoothly and evenly with
Ever increasing speed
Everything giving way
To this unstoppable breed.
Mass transportation creating
A warm little world of your own,
Cocooned, isolated, before
The Laptop and mobile phone.
Those engines and carriages had
A feel of quality comfort and class,
But progress is progress is progress,
The age of steam sadly had to pass.
Now engines are utilitarian diesel
Pulling mass produced rolling stock
In a twenty four hour world ruled
By slavery to the ever ticking clock.
Crammed and overcrowded,
No more secluded little spaces,
Full of tense and tired travellers
With closed drawn stressed faces.
The laptop and the mobile phone
Taking one pleasure of travel away.
No temporary escape in this
Modern, intrusive connected, day.
That slow train that gave us freedom
In that unconnected age of steam
Now only remembered in a museum
And an ageing traveller's daydream.