Prim and proper, sitting up tall,
The well-dressed woman holds her handbag tight.
Nervous eyes dart from side to side,
Afraid, she sits alone, jumping at each sight.
Why is she afraid when she travels in the night?
Why is this well-dressed woman here when too weary to fight?
Glancing at her ‘phone and watch she flies on through the dark,
Magnesium white light not hiding dark shadows beneath her eyes.
Tense as the string of a bow about to fire,
She prepares to leave as every minute passes by.
Finally the train stops, she rises second of four,
Marching down the platform into blackness.
Long coat flowing behind her,
Hands deep in pockets,
Where does she go with such fear to confess?
Why does she advance there in her mysterious and elegant dress?
I hope that you are enjoying the current cycle of poems. The first part can be found here, while the second can be found here. As ever, I’d like to hear what you think, and to read any poetry that you might have written or read on a similar topic – feel free to comment.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic