London underground,
where the trains wheels scrape against the tracks,
the vibrations of the track tremble over your body,
as you wait at the station.
The announcements resounding,
overpowering the voices,
the scampering footsteps.
London underground,
leave a space between each person,
do not get too close,
full of people trying to make as little eye contact as possible.
The underground of avoidance.
Avoiding missing the train,
avoiding conversation,
avoiding crossing people's paths,
avoiding increasing the cue,
as you juggle with your ticket.
A man chooses a spot,
in the middle of one of the white tubes,
where everyone rushes through,
rushing for their next train,
he roots himself right there.
He pulls out a speaker,
and a little piano,
and he just stood there.
He stood there,
playing his music.
I stopped and I listened,
i'll catch the next train.
YOU ARE READING
An organised mess
PoetryA poetry collection with random poetry I have written overtime, and thought i'd share. I aim to add a new poem into this collection every day, could be the occasional off day :-) hope you enjoy! **thoughts day to day, put pen to paper and let the...
