Janice Windle - Missing the Ten Fifteen

A middle-aged Venus
I rise from the depths
of the Northern Line
out under the canopy
stretched above
under the night sky.
Everybody meeting at Waterloo
flushing, rushing
to where the orange letters
on the Departures board
shuffle, shudder and shake off
their promises. The ten-fifteen
has vanished from the board
no longer on the cards.
The race for home lost
I wander aimless through crowds
their faces upturned, anxious
like nestlings denied their nests.

Janice Windle

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/missing-the-ten-fifteen/