Whilst waiting for a train at a lonely station

I noticed that the thin winter sun

Had created quite distinctive shadows

Under the freezing platform canopy

I knew that this theatre would not last long

As these were the short shallow days

On a distant planet a neon juke box

Was playing slow songs in endless repetition

Yet my interest was governed not by the spin table

But by a photograph that showed a lonely railway station

Deep in the quiet shadows of a early winter’s afternoon

This was identical in every aspect to the blue rhyme time of my day