The train now approaching
Platform one
Is going the wrong way.
Fingers tingle
A few passengers mingle
Under a half open shelter
Sleet flurries pelter.
Shame I don't smoke
Got no matches to keep me warm
Block out the cold
The pen is mightier than a lighter
My mind is a distraction
But only a fraction
Can hardly see the top of The Shard
Diverting my pain by being a bard
Good grief!
Now there's an extra
Three minute delay
Which never seems to happen
On a balmy day.
Stuggling now..really froze
Brain cells shutting down
No more prose.
Hang on...
What's that coming along?
THANK FUCK...
Here's my train!
Dulwich Poet 23rd March 2013
(I was waiting on a windswept really cold elevated platform at South Bermondsey Station, and simply got my notebook out to take my mind off of the 20 minute wait, until my train was due)
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