an old writer and his words

I have had two,although the first is longforgotten, so perhaps itno longer counts, itcertainly didn’t to her,announcing its endlike the conductorof a train running lateon the mainline to sadness. Perhaps I have not forgottenbut all I see is myselfstanding alone, intoningwords to which the crowdintently listens, much likethe audience at a readingby a lesser known…