I’ve started writing little ditties about the people who sit opposite me on my commute home. They’ll mostly appear under the ‘Commuter Poetry’ link  in the top menu.

Cheque shirt, check mate;
Empty eyed matey checking his phone
Double-thumbed like no-one’s home.
Rimless glasses half full of glare
Half sagging bags beneath the saucer stare.
Hair as grey as a soft ash fall,
Ebbing over forehead creases,
One, two, three, four
Resting gently on eyebrows
That sit heavy as bracken on a forest floor.
One on top of the other like undeliverable mail,
Or the pinstripe of geological strata,
Years etched into yellowed skin,
Slack like yesterday’s paper, faded glyphs
Hidden amongst the kaleidoscopic noir of
This mornings stubble.
Hanky handed from palm into pocket
Need to save that for later,
As over the shoulder, pop goes the blazer.