Mountains or molehills?

A joy to behold
back on the tube train
and not too cold,
it still smells though
of
stale sweat and old
beer

sending a postcard,
bet you’re glad you’re
not here.

Well
I am,

stuck in this cockeyed
creation of man
no room to move
and nowhere I can go,
why
does the tube train travel
so slow?

We’re just something
transportable
it’s no wonder I’m
miserable.

But the sun will come
through for me
as I alight at the chancery
and walk the rest of the way.

And it’s Thursday
which deserves at
least one hip hurray

Friday tomorrow
another
joy to behold or
just
another day
to get old in?

© 2017, John Smallshaw.