The Journey
Sight.
Sound.
Smell.
Taste.
The trains.
The tracks.
The rush, the haste.
The sweeties and toffees,
Newspapers and coffees,
Cases and bags, e-cigs and fags,
Pasty and tanned, iphone in hand,
The people who come and the people who go
And the Taxis that wait, as you cannot be late -
Spill out men in their ties, College kids in tie-dyes,
End of termers returning to their seat of learning,
The screeching of brakes and the slamming of doors,
From the ‘barely awakes’ and the ‘ready to go’s -
The good lucks and goodbyes, fears and tears in the eyes,
And the hugs that don’t end and the texts that they’ll send,
The lovers, the losers, the shakers and movers, the gap-year beginners and ‘nothing to prove’rs -
Step right into the mouth of the train as it stands, hoping this journey syncs with the ticket in hand -
To all points of the compass; South, West, East and North,
The disparate throng fast shuddering forth,
Frozen of face, their personal space.
Typical of the human race.
Lost in the crowd, all heads bowed.
Silent fears, screaming loud …..
Break out the ‘Hello’s -
And ban ‘Goodbye’
Journeys end
Hovers,
Nigh.
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment