Piccadilly Collection

The Train Station


A cavern of possible futures

Which one will you take?

Bullet to the city?

Steam train to the lake?


An open choice before you

When you step through that door

Go to work as normal?

Or rumble ‘cross the moor?


Strangers shift around you

As you stare up at the board

Commute to concrete jungle?

Journey to the Fjords?


Wherever you decide on

Be sure to take the train

The romance of a voyage

Will take away the strain





Two legged iron filings

Sprinkled throughout the concourse

‘This is a platform alteration’

Magnets move, platform 4

Becomes magnetic North

For 3





The Space


Murmuring interspersed with chattering.

Creates a white noise never ending.

Bin ratcher pigeon searching

For breakfast inside

The dark, sweet, mouldy hole


Jagged toothed stair endlessly carrying.

Bites the unwary, you must keep watching.

Never moving but always shifting

From low, up high.

Takes you onwards wherever you go.



Woo Wooo!


Crenulations top the station,

Grand and proud they soar on high.

Mass migration of the nation

Via diesel, steel and line.

On vacation, cancellation,

Big red letters on the sign.

In cessation on location,

Conversations of frustration.

Proclamation, new destination.

All aboard!


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