As I walked along the path by the railway track
A pebble-dashed underground train passed me at speed
Which was strange in itself as they are usually red
Then my lunch hour turned even stranger
As I soon discovered that the underground train
Had turned into a common coffee machine
It was when I was returning to my place of employment
That I found some antique booklets containing sweet poems
Which were damp and flimsy to the lightest touch
I realised then that I had been speaking in a hushed voice
When there was no real reason for me to do so