Down in the earth.
What sounds come from train tunnels when there are no trains?
Rigid and bendy.
Electric wires spun like webs,
waiting to coax conveyances through.
Darkly lit depots.
Abandoned newspapers, soon extinct.
Browning yellow warning strips minimally offend.
Deeper still are secrets.
There must be more to these cobbled caverns.
Each station the tip of an archaeological iceberg.
Years upon years of gradual being.
Mini ant colonies.
Ghosts of progress.
A way underneath, not on, or through.
Echoes of screeching metal wheels appear.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Don’t know, I’ll ask the driver.