Going Home

GOING HOME This train ride is long, too long. Seem to have spent most of my life on it In and out of tunnels. The glaring brightness of the stations No reflections in windows there - Brief interludes between long tunnels. We plunge into another dark tube and See reflection of face with red hat in window People crowding too close But shut eyes and think own thoughts Of when I was younger, fitter. I still look out of thirty year old eyes; But reverie is interrupted by A young girl who taps my sleeve And offers her seat To a sixty year old man in a red hat Standing in front of her eyes. Early in the trip I mostly refused such seats But am glad of them now As the final tunnel approaches And the train pulls into the terminal - And I’m glad of the quiet in the carriage On my way home.