Who'd live in London, lost in clouds
Where people swirl like autumn leaves
The station concourse swarms with crowds -
Commuters buzz like angry bees.
The trains are packed as tight as drums
On no face lurks a smile
A baby cries, the engine hums
There's talk of strikes awhile.
Imagine, you whose trip is rare
On South-East network link
How tired and stressed are those out there.
It would drive the sane to drink!
We talk of modern city style
An Economy well run
But I won't join the rank and file
My commuter days are done.
While I reflect, a cell phone rings
Some passengers awake
We eavesdrop on some private things
It's more than I can take.
It used to be, when I was young
A gentle way to ride.
But now a journey's hell, not fun
It's not a source of pride.
In France the trains are fast and cheap
Investment is the key.
Somewhere Britain's gone off track
Brit trains are not for me!
(c) Poet in the woods 2014