Mid-week, where tourists keenly wait
On Platform 4 for trains to Bruges
Though out of season, there are queues!
Past rush-hour, youth in jeans are clad
The elderly, well wrapped-up, sad
No place to sit, wield cane, smart hat;
They lean on pillars, idly chat ...
Suitcases sometimes trundle past
Dragged down the steps, a daunting task
I observe, bemused, this travelling crowd
Disturbed by intercom – too loud!
In French and Dutch, announcements stun
But foreigners, nonplussed, are glum
Weak language skills put to the test;
Their tickets, dog-eared, look distressed ...
A couple get on the wrong train
No guard on standby to explain
The sun smiles on their luckless start
Delays upset their applecart!
The countryside is sleek and green
Dinky, whitewashed houses gleam
The Flemish flatlands meet my gaze;
Warmth has cleared the morning haze.
Train travel – scenes flash past my eyes
Steeples, factories, farms, high-rise
A quaint meander to North Sea
In an empty carriage – just for me!
(c) Poet in the woods 2017
Ostend beach
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