The Seasoned Commuter
The Seasoned Commuter
On The platform for ten to seven
No more trains if I get to heaven
Coffee and paper held in each hand
Bought a new ticket, cost me four grand!
The train is on time, not running late
I need three hands or maybe a plate?
I’m near the front so should get a seat
I hate to stand, packed in like meat.
Here comes the train it seems so slow
But it’s just the start of my daily woe.
The doors fly open and in I rush
A dig in the ribs and a poke in the mush!
Just keep going, just hope and pray
I want my seat for the money I pay
Made it, got it, next to Tim
Bit of a squeeze but he’s not so grim
An hour and ten if we run to time
And I’m going nowhere, this seat is mine!
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
