I dance around people on dusty pavements,
avoiding the woman with the wheeled suitcase,
the three-abreast hand-in-hand family.
Whose street is this, I wonder, whose bus-stop?
The cyclist pulling into the space
ahead of the cars pedals free on empty tarmac.
The man sitting alone on a bench
in Tavistock Square has taken his jacket off
as I pass on the top deck of a 59 bus
heading for the wall of traffic on the Euston Road.
What about the homeless man you see on the steps
of the Opera House on Tuesdays, his dancer's grace
and pale lips, the pound you give him each week?
1 comment:
You have captured a moment of everyday commuting without the glitz - honest and well done!
Post a Comment