Solid as rock and made
in the image of an ironing board
You'd think for the thousands
Thameslink - could afford,
a bit of padding for our poor bruised bums
As we are pounded by the bumps and thrums
Of brand new trains on ancient tracks
Splurge for some comfort to allow us some naps...
After long long days and even longer nights.
At what point does comfort become a human given right?
YOU ARE READING
A poem per day
PoesiaA place for poems. One year. 365 poems. A challenge, a journey - a quest to be a better writer.
