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the platform match
"the platform match"
St Pancras squares its red‑brick shoulders,
arches polished like a knight’s best armour,
clock tower standing tall enough
to pretend it’s never intimidated.
Gare du Nord rolls in with Parisian swagger,
all iron ribs and confident glass,
the sort of place that knows
you’ll photograph it anyway.
St Pancras clears its throat first—
a crisp British ahem
that sounds suspiciously like
“mind the gap.”
Gare du Nord replies
with a shrug so elegant
it could be bottled
and sold as cologne.
They size each other up
across the Channel,
one sipping tea,
the other adjusting its scarf,
each convinced the other
is slightly overdoing it.
A Eurostar glides between them,
carrying travellers
who swear allegiance
to whichever station
has the shorter queue today.
And just when the rivalry peaks,
St Pancras offers a polite nod.
Gare du Nord lifts an eyebrow.
Neither concedes.
The train departs.
Call it a draw.
.
