commuting angel*

you seem tired...

and your blue eyes

are almost shut

on the busy trail

you doze

whilst a heavy head rocks

gently in the sway

 

you do not disclose

your mystery...

as you awake serene

in your sober city garb

at saint albans

 

beyond the sound

of the headlong rush

back and forth -

the gush

of the long dark tunnel

or opposing train

heard through the drifting scene...

the gold-brown autumn fields

sparsely peppered with sheep

 

you do not disclose

your mystery...

as you awake serene

in your sober city garb

at saint albans

 

your sleep

is hardly interrupted

and your beautiful round face

that of an angel

of some kind

remains unperturbed...

even as the journey draws

to its end