Train People

Some of them were scary.

Some of them were lairy.

Some drank beer and discussed women’s breasts

Although they never used such prim terms.

One wrote about morals, sounds great but,

Never practised what they preached,

When someone with crutches walked by

They wouldn’t offer their privileged seat.

Often people would pick their nose,

Or decide to paint their nails,

Or pick their nose AND drizzle olbas oil everywhere.

Some gave distasteful looks

If you sat too near their luggage.

But despite those few the ones I remember

Are so much more special than that.

The ones I remember showed me, truly,

How amazing humans are.

One guy shared his language,

So I shared mine.

An author scribbled in her tattered notebook,

And asked me never to forget her.

One girl who was my age at the time

Was in charge of designing Bristol town.

One boy was sat reading my favourite fantasy

(Favourite at that time anyway).

One woman was learning Arabic

The form of the words fascinated me.

One kind woman I bonded with

Over the colours in my cardigan

Although we didn’t speak the same language

Our mutual love of colour was universal.

Ofttimes people ignore you

They go about their own business and don’t need yours

But the rare conversations are diamonds and jewels

They are treasures to be remembered.