Lantern on Platform Eight

Verse

By the cracked switchbox where the timetable peels,
He winds the levers like scissors through reels.
A battered brass lantern on a nail by his knee,
He writes eleven‑ten in a ledger gone greasy.
Snap the fingers, soft and neat,
A street‑corner hum for the soles on the concrete.
He straightens his cap with a careful grin,
Waits for a caller who never came in.

Chorus

Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, doo‑wop in the dust,
Na‑na, na‑na, faithful as rust.
He polishes glass with the cuff of his sleeve,
Lights every lamp for a train that won't leave.
Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, heart on the stake,
Tonight he is keeping Platform Eight.

Verse

The town is a bowl of permanent orange dusk,
Benches hold moonmarks, paint gone to husk.
He writes the minute in ink that has thinned,
Counts out the seconds like coins in a tin.
A thermos of tea cools on a splintered bench,
Signal rods squeak like a clock with no wrench.
He hums a tune that no one replies,
Pins down the ledger, tightens the ties.

Chorus

Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, doo‑wop in the dust,
Na‑na, na‑na, faithful as rust.
He polishes glass with the cuff of his sleeve,
Lights every lamp for a train that won't leave.
Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, heart on the stake,
Tonight he is keeping Platform Eight.

Bridge

spoken word

At midnight the horizon answers with steam—
a single whistle bends the night like a seam.
No passengers clamber, no footsteps to meet,
Just an empty carriage, a thermos, a postcard with his street.
He smiles in the shadow, tucks the card in his coat,
Turns the key, sets the semaphore, lets the rails breathe and bloat.

Chorus

Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, doo‑wop in the dust,
Na‑na, na‑na, faithful as rust.
He polishes glass with the cuff of his sleeve,
Lights every lamp for a train that won't leave.
Ooh‑wah, ooh‑wah, heart on the stake,
He clicks the lantern off and waits till tomorrow on Platform Eight.