Fantastic failures of journeys    by  Jill Jones

Fantastic failures of journeys occupied me
until the day dawned and the birds were singing
'Great Expectations' Charles Dickens

This is how the colours are laid today
grey, brown and rusty red
in the sky and along the rails
where muddied paper flaps
plastic bottles sprawl, distorted and empty
beside the gravel and dirty cuttings
where winter cold makes no impression.

It's a short but hard journey through
the graffiti-streaked zones
old goods yards, disused silo sidings
tangled lines of industry and suburbs
huddled like the reluctant passengers
in these thirty year old carriages,
rocking haphazardly into today's sleeker industries
hit hard by the sudden winter.

The standing ones stare at their shoes
holding tight to large black umbrellas, 'til
everyone is thrown forward, ready to fight
their way to their own bleak destinations
or so it would seem from their eyes.

© Jill Jones