Singing in the train

If life was music, I could waltz and wail

down this grey aisle, sing out my soul and pain.

 

Tap dance on grubby tables, strewn with snacks,

swing high from dusty, laden luggage racks.

 

Vault prickly, itchy, threadbare railway seats,

terrify little children scoffing sweets.

 

Take hold the hands of a dark, handsome man,

share duets, fall in mad love, make some plans.

 

My fellow passengers in quick time clap,

The guard skips along, whistling, his feet rap.

 

‘Tickets!’, his hole punch plays like castanets,

as we rumble on through worldly regrets.

9 thoughts on “Singing in the train

  1. This really struck a chord with me. I too am guilty of giving little ear to the dreams that echo through our minds of the things that my soul desires, like many others I am sure, like love. Alas we learn to prioritize these voices over mundane chores in life.

    Liked by 1 person

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