Peace on the Train

Peace on the Train

We are heading up to London on the fifteen thirty-four,
Our coats are on the rack above, our cases on the floor,
We read our books in silence, ‘til an irritating tone,
Rings out from three seats further back, and Julie’s on the phone

“Hello there, yes it’s Julie!” “Is she deaf?” asks my friend, Jane,
“Yes, I’m on my way to London,” (Damn, she’s staying on the train)
“No, I’ve lots of time to natter, we can chat ‘til Clapham Junction”
And we hope her battery fades so that her phone will cease to function

“Did you buy that bright red sofa? Mine’s a lovely shade of pink,
Will it match new purple curtains, or bright orange, what d’you think?
I’m going to buy a bedspread for my uncle’s Spanish villa”
Jane turns to me and whispers, “Would they notice if I kill her?”

“Hang on, Sarah, there’s a tunnel. For a moment I’ll be quiet”
“Just as well,” I  mumble softly, “Or the passengers will riot”
“Yes, I’m back now, did you miss me? Oh you’ve gone, that is a shame”
But we all sigh with relief, that we no longer hear her name

We sit noiselessly to Gatwick, watch the signs for Croydon pass,
Even smile in tolerance as a teacher boards with half his class
Then a young man joins at Clapham, rhythm pounding from his ears,
Jane hands over several tissues to mop up my desperate tears.

I meet my Aunt in London, as I leave the railway line,
Auntie asks, “How was your journey?” I say “Absolutely fine”

Written by Claire Baldry ©