Poem With No Title Poem by bob barci

It’s just one of those things.
I don’t mind being up and about
early on this warm, but gray day.
I rather like it.
The grayness seems to put
a magical spell on everything
and the warmth keeps me well aware
of my surroundings and the goings on.
Cab gets me to the station
just as the train I wanted to be on leaves.
I don’t mind as I get to enjoy the warm grayness
with a cup of coffee.
During the hour I have to wait for the next train,
I think of poems I could write,
and watch the people who come to wait with me.
Once on the train,
I play peek-a-boo with the small boy in front of me.
Entering the tunnel under the river,
the warm grayness disappears.
Now, it’s just black.
When I exit this train,
it’ll be to warm grayness again
and I’ll be off to make the most of it.