At a train station, the weather bleak and sour
Grey shadows sprawl, on dull concrete floors
Umbrella tucked ready, newspaper open
Rafenea ges’ he repeats, the breeze skims the page
Eyes blink, incomprehension…….
‘…….right back at-cha’ the cockney accent bites
‘Thank You. It’s a beautiful day too, is it not?
Wind whistles, a frightful tune
The mass of figures weave, horde the platform
The machine intoning, Orange timer grows.
Man standing befuddled; the train tackfully departs
And the .p.g 3 girl, flashing her curves.
p.s- 'Refenea gos' is a made up word, but hey. If shakespeare can do it, why can't I. (2000+ words for your reference)
Added to GotPoetry.com ( http://www.gotpoetry.com ) on 09-Nov-2010|