Miniatures

Model railways run in circles,
Through the days of steam,
All cobbled-streets and Northern quirk-ful,
In a Thirties dream –
A spotless, frozen neighbourhood,
Bedecked with tiny trees,
And terraces of balsa-wood,
And cardboard factories.
This world had vanished long before
These modellers were born,
But here, in H-O scale once more,
It’s elegantly worn.
They never show the modern world,
It seems – no urban sprawl.
Perhaps they take so long to build,
It sets their sights so small…?

Day 3 – Miniature – #inktober #inktoberpoem #inktoberpoetry

Home Kits

There’s far too many teams in red,
(And those that aren’t are blue instead) –
With some in stripes, a hoop or two,
Between the red (or else the blue).
And some are claret, some are sky –
But few will use a diff’rent dye.

So we look ourselves at home –
Yet on the road, we shed our skin.
And the fans will wear our latest polychrome
With a loyal grin –
Any colour, just so long we win.

But here and there, a yellow lurks,
Or gleaming white, which also works,
Or sometimes green, or sometimes gold,
(Or even pink, if feeling bold).
Now black’s a pretty unseen beast
As that’s the ref (or was, at least).

We may look odd away, for sure –
Yet when at home, we bear our crest,
Just like we’ve done a century or more
Upon our chest –
We don the colours that bring out our best.