by Tobias Thornes

Very soon they missed him,
When the air conditioning leaked,
And everyone complained about
The smaller, harder seats.
And when the new train screeched to halt
Half an hour late,
Few among the passengers
Thought it worth the wait.

But Progress wouldn’t hearken
To this first journey’s curse:
They’d spent too many millions
Buying something worse
Than our beloved 1-2-5
They’d rushed to push aside
For fickle, flashy, tacky trains
While our old partner died.

So here we sit as captives,
Disgruntled and delayed.
A computerised apology
Through stale air is played,
But ever in our consciousness
The cancelled promise bleats:
‘The new trains will be faster–
And with bigger, softer seats!’