Stood here,
stamping frozen feet,
wrapped in jacket, hands in pockets,
looking for the train that should be near.
Still here,
twenty minutes later,
late again, shivering and smoking,
cursing the train that should be near.
Pacing here,
trying to keep warm,
moaning to other passengers,
praying for the train that should be near.
Smiling here,
hearing the announcement,
next train on platform two,
thanking god for the train that now is near.
Author notes
Written February 24th, 2006
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I'm not a fan of shape poetry, though this can only be loosely described as such. But I think most people will be able to relate to this.
You have your passengers talking to each other which I found strange. In Scotland we don't even talk to each other. It's an unwritten rule, thou must not communicate with fellow commuters.
Edited on Feb 24, 10:41 because ''. -
hahahahaha that sounds soooo familiar. funny write, your frustration shows. good stuff
LP&CG
Liz
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