by Richard Vince

As I hum along to half heard
But familiar music in
Someone else's ears,
She exercises her mind by
Making connections and
Rearranging letters.

Words are of more interest to her
Than her fellow travellers
Or the factories and office blocks
Speeding past the window
Next to her.

She twirls a pen that gives away
The identity of her employers,
And I muse, as I always will,
On how far she has to
Come to get to work every day.

And as the familiar railway works
Let me know I am arriving
At my destination, I find
Myself moved by the worried look
On her apparently normally
Friendly face.


Posted on 09/20/2004
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

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