Train Station

It can be deemed rude to stare
on a train, but what is one supposed to do there?

Do you put on your iPod, become ensnared
transported to another place, far away
by music and memories to a seaside fair?

Or do you chat to a stranger
and suffer their glare
as if to say how do you dare
disturb the tunes that I blare?

So I join in the craze to stare
at my fellow passengers fair

Legs too long for the chair
the one opposite me seems ready to swear
at anyone who would dare
step on his flares.

The others pretend not to care,
crumpled against each other,
carefully avoiding to stare.

visit Chronicles of Tania



Chronicles of Tania

I am a writer and read around 50 books a year. I also run a writing group in Notting Hill and a walking and culture group around London.

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