Cradled through England between flooded fields
Rocking, rocking the rails, my head-phones on
The black box of my Walkman on the table
Hot tea trembles in its plastic cup
I'm thinking of you waking in our bed
Thinking of me on the train. Too soon to phone
The radio speaks in the suburbs, in commuter towns
Even the tea, an inanimate object, is  personified ,  described as ‘trembling’ from the movement of the train. It also foreshadows the train crash/terrorist attack that is the ultimate subject of this poem.
On The Train