Moist with the dew of October,
She shivered, tasting the last droplets of rain,
That flew from their nest in the gutter,
And taking her suitcase, she boarded the train.
Her eyes darted round for a blue patterned chair,
Half-expecting another to rise from his own,
And dragging her fingers through her wind-beaten hair,
She dropped her bags and retired to the corner, alone.
But fixing her eyes on the yellow central pole..
Suprised that her gaze landed in this exact place,
She marvelled at the fingers of many, different ages, seperate roles,
What she saw brought back joy to her face.
The withered hand of a black man, possibly sixty years old,
An obvious philosopher, a man with many beliefs,
His fingers tightly clutched round the yellow central pole,
With the desire to reach home brightening on his cheeks.
Above his hand, a white womans, her nails long and deep red,
She talked on a cell phone, to a lover or friend,
Promised she'd be there soon, visions of meeting in her head,
Left that satisfied smile with her to her journeys end.
Below the black man, a young boy of about five or six,
Fascinated by a tassle hanging from the white womans bag,
His eyes soaking in experience, in every way tranfixed,
And she pulled faces at him till her stuck out his tongue and laughed.
His guardian, an asian lady, a buisinesswoman it seemed,
Adorned in a pinstripe suit and navy blue platform shoes,
She closed her lids to the motion and appeared to drift off, in dream,
Her mouth folding at the corners, enjoying her snooze.
At the next platform, a portly white man jabbed the button for the door,
And slid himself in between the guardian and child,
Grunting heavily, with great effort dragging his bag on the floor,
Wearing a battleship grey jogging suit, simply styled.
All gathered around this unifying pole,
The woman in the corner took out her sketchbook to note,
An author by trade, though lately her books hadn't sold,
She was sure of this idea, for a poem, as she wrote.
'Black and white coincide, like the keys of the piano,
Each vital to the melody, to carry the tune,
Each shackled to one another, divulged in diversity,
Reliant on brotherhood, as Martin Luther presumed'
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