The Northern Line

and the northern line heads north;
train and tarmac traverse forgotten agriculture
whilst against a dull horizon
the seeded rape in swathes of brushed yellow,
tractor scared, deep cut fields
frames, for a second,
the lightning split tree
that dares to bloom.

and the northern line heads north;
fleeting sheep being picturesque
cathedrals, greenery and greed juxtaposed,
the saintly and the secular
the modernist and the medieval
give way to cemeteries
filled with the unremarkable and the overgrown.

and the northern line heads north;
soon passed the ubiquitous supermarket,
factories and silos waiting to rust,
silent Sunday football pitches
scale modelled on the Somme under foot.

and the northern line heads north;
leaving hotels named after far away places,
a taunting to where you’d rather be
as more luggage and life stories
are tucked neatly above the sadness
that occupies every seat;

and the northern line heads north.

© D. Archer May 2014

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One thought on “The Northern Line

  1. Love the last stanza the most…”a taunting to where you’d rather be”…and the last three lines…I was gonna put that in quotes here…but you already know what it says. Anyway, those last lines are beautifully, sadly real! Just love them!

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