Open the carriage doors, take one step down.
Feel light frost on cement beneath your foot
Doors beep and close. An electronic hoot
The train departs. It's going back to town.
And when it's gone, the silence gathers round.
No cars or bird call. Just the hum of power
along the wires. It is the cold dark hour
of night – your breathing is the loudest sound
as you walk down the lane, into the night.
Darkness like chocolate bitter on your tongue
yet soothing as it did when you were young
and fell asleep into it. You'll sleep tight
In half an hour. Secure, you make your way
see less, know more, than on the brightest day.