On tracks of steel, cramped space and body awry,
A man, with a bag precariously poised on his left, I could descry.
Amazement led to the discovery of mirth,
A stance sideways and legs stretched out wide, to every movement alert.
Mirth allowed grievance to creep in, for fellow beings as an afterthought,
Handgrip above, and not the deportment and space, use he ought.
Steels grinding to a scratchy halt, and a twitch in the posture so fun,
Bitterness then dawned, where there should be right – there was none.
3 comments:
Bitterness is needless, for someone so brave
The well-adjusted do need us grave.
The fun and frolic do share
As much as we would with the 'more privileged' dare.
I have realised that a humourous sense
These guys possess in abundance
I salute them but do smile at their travails petty
They are not 'lesser' so why reduce them to pity?
I suspect though that the pity was more for you than him,
The fact that we have forgotten how to live with things truly grim.
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