Littleborough Railway Station

The 11.58 to Leeds is running late

I hate waiting in the cold wind

I check my watch as I look across at the Parish Church

High upon the grey stone steeple below the golden weathervane

Where moments stand still hushed quieter than church mice

Where time and chime are sacred silent

The church clock’s hands held clasped

Forever together in prayer

Evermore a minute to twelve at Holy Trinity

I think it’s beginning to rain