The ghost of Tobermurray

The first time we set eyes on Tobermurray
We viewed you from the  window of a passing train
My first and last on the iron road…
You loomed large as we approached your derelict shell,
Grass growing through the cracks of cobbles.
People chatting gazing with amaze,
 We sped through this vibrant homely place.
It was as though we were alone, transparent,
Your stare pierced clean, not a care.
The whistle seemed to sound,
A warning to stand well clear.
An announcement  I should have heeded, 
Just the previous year.
We were in the year of sixty four or so I believed,
I would have been nine by then.
I would run no further, remain, lent against eight.
Taken short but living a life 
Behind the veils of death, it’s never too late…

© munster 2020
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no comments or critique sought.
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