Waiting for doors to open, people standing sharing glances
Whose feet will be first on the train? who will get a seat? I don't fancy my chances
Hussle and bustle we pile in all squashed like sardines
Should I sneak in first class, if only I had the means
Up against it, personal space invaded
Each one of us trying to avoid bodily contact, to be evaded
Fellow passengers each seeking their destination
It's a good job I'm going local and not trekking across the nation
A feat of balance as you stand trying not to tumble
Feel the wheels on the track as they rumble
No room for a conductor to ask me for my tickets
No room to get my phone out and press some digits
Looking around thinking why no room just how?
Farmers' Fields out the window thinking it would be more comfortable to travel by cow.
They say it will be quicker when we get HS2
20 Minutes faster doesn't mean a jot if you're stuck to the door like glue
A sense of relief that we survived our locomotive adventure
Stepping through the doors to the platform knowing I will be back for my next Journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful and fun poem to read!
Thank You :)