It’s lonely on this platform: in fact, everywhere is bare:
bring passing rails no comfort as if they lie not there.
How will I pass my waiting in early evening gloom?
I know – I’ll learn to speak that name across the waiting room.
There’s no one here to hear me – embarrassment not mine:
is that an engine siren I’m sensing up the line?
I’d better get a move on, in whispers none can mock,
like Welsh who know the lingo for Llanfair-gogogoch.
Some syllables I’ve managed: correct? I cannot say,
it takes some concentration. My train is on its way!
It’s growing quite a challenge, yes, growing out of hand,
while nearby throb’s suggesting my train is at a stand –
but I am making progress: I’m coming to the end.
I win! But as I triumph, my train leaves round the bend!
The last one of the day – so I’m stranded: please don’t mock
at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.
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