• Hugh Loxdale

Commuting Angel

You seem tired…

And your blue eyes

Are almost shut

On the busy trail.

You doze

Whilst a heavy head rocks

Gently in the sway

Beyond the sound

Of the headlong rush,

Back and forth, -

The gush

Of the long, dark tunnel,

Or opposing train,

Heard through the drifting scene…

The gold-brown autumn fields,

Sparsely peppered with sheep,

Your sleep

Is hardly interrupted,

And your beautiful, round face,

That of an angel

Of some kind,

Remains unperturbed…

Even as the journey draws

To its end,

You do not disclose

Your mystery…

As you awake serene

In your sober city garb

At Saint Albans.

And even with your loss,

Your memory remains

Pleasantly with me.

You alone have inspired

These lines.

You have fired

A longing to record.

You, you!

You unknown lady

Of this mortal plain,

Now gone ...without a word.

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