It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,
thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,
As I huddle down, inside my coat,
a commuter clone, just waiting for a train.
Insidious rain, just drizzling down,
through weak light of creeping dawn,
Paper sandwich bags and old coffee cups,
blowing past, look so forlorn.
We huddle together, like a colony of penguins,
sheltering from the rain,
As we struggle through, another stressful day,
wait for the downtown train.
Alien voices, from hidden speakers,
say there is a change, go to platform four,
Some move fast, must be beginners,
veterans stay still, heard it all before.
Styrofoam flavoured coffee,
"Giant cup for 10 cents saving!".
Smells like an accident, in a science lab,
But quells my caffeine craving.
Lurid posters, on the wall,
Sell things, we just don't need.
Early morning papers rustle,
As some attempt to read.
Alien voices, another problem,
With the downtown train,
"Can all commuters, on platform four,
go back to platform one again ! "
Those that stayed, have a knowing smirk,
written wide upon their face.
While all the 'new boys', like compliant sheep,
Back across the station race.
In the distance, the lights of a train,
Raise commuters hopes so high.
But it's just a local freight train,
That mockingly thunders by.
But then at last, a train pulls up,
And we fight to claim a seat.
Lay back relax, in steaming clothes,
Commuter hell, finally complete.
John Roberts is a Freelance Training Consultant in the UK and director of JayrConsulting Ltd.