We went to the station platform in the late
evening. No-one was about, the trains had
long since stopped running, and
we could be undisturbed until the morning.
The night drew dark around us, softened by
the warmth of platform lighting. Earlier in the
day we’d been by the lake-side, watched
swans, had our fill of cheap food and beer
and watched the quiet town from the comfort
of patio seats.
Now it was time for rest proper.
The chill of the air was gentle in its arrival,
a quiet the breeze from the lake under the
cloudless sky. Tomorrow would be a good
day. There would be another train journey –
after a false start the movement back to
bigger towns, that would see the trip’s end
No matter the cold, the singing of the birds
or the unwatched bags at our feet. The
night’s rest was steady, with broken sleep
and the dreams of where next we would