Liverpool Lime Street Remembered

Urgency hangs in the air,
replacing the smoke of yesteryear’s trains
with commuter chaos.

Bustling to and fro,
potential passengers;
each in their own bubble,
each with their own place to go.

I stand below the old clock tower.
Its hands counting down the minutes
that for me stand still
as the world spins by.

I wait -
a silent spectator,
a bypassed bystander -
in my quarantine dreaming.

Snared in time suspended,
as luggage is left unattended,
my lone soul stands unbefriended
until
my bubble bursts
as you appear.

© Sheila Ash 24^th September 2016