My own clockwork reset when I arrived;
seems that I'm shaped as man-sized teddy bear.
I had expected 1945,
But arrivals read 1954.
Not Paris' Gare du Nord but London's Paddington
with a ticket in my pocket for Penzance.
Was met by contact Sir Frank Henry Brown.
It is a cover to fit in with pirates; quite a dance
transporting crew and major general
back to the front by small derigible time machine.
Their craft awaits them on the River Rhine.
I left with Brown a robot replica
to act as a children's torch in case I'm seen;
Who'd guess such fun would come from that design.
(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * 10/30/2012 * All Rights Reservd
This is my "attempt" at a steampunk poem. Not exactly Victorian; but growing out of the Torchwood, Dr.Who steampunk vocabulary. Also from the gratification I now have that since my first trip to Paddington station, when finding NO Paddington bears there.
