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