Eyes fixed in vain stare
With a look of disdain
A line at the station
All waiting a train
Perched in a tapered row
Like birds on a wire
Feet plunged in sadness
Back-stroke through the mire
7 a.m. prompt
On a less than eager trip to work
Ladies in skirts
Men's crisp ironed shirt
Darkness still in the air
As they rolled from their bed
Lunging into the kitchen to
Make toast out of bread
The carriage seats are full
Shoulder to shoulder they sit tight
No energy to read the paper
Soon be time to alight
A swarm of white plaster faces
Bones rattling with the track
Eight hours of office tedium
Then grind their way back
