Lost In Music Poem by Angela Wybrow

Sitting in silence,
On a busy London-bound train,
The sun streaming in
Through the window,
I peer discreetly
Out the corner of my eye,
At the young man,
Sitting next to me,
In the seat,
Adjacent to the window.

Listening to his music,
Via his, almost invisible, earbuds,
His music is unheard by me,
But, I am filled with fascination,
Watching his strong reactions,
As he responds to both the words,
And, to the beat;
He's living in the moment:
Literally lost in his music;
He's caught in a world of his own:
Not caring what the people,
In the world around him, think;
Not caring about their silent judgement;
His emotions have been stirred,
And are being moved by the music.

His hands are constantly busy:
Constantly on the move,
As he rhythmically acts out
Some of the words:
Occasionly, briefly placing
His fingertips on his chest,
Indicating his personal connection
To the seemingly silent story.
He accentuates particular points
Along the way:
Reminiscent, in parts, of someone
Plonking their splayed fingers down
On a piano keyboard.

His head, along with the whole of his torso,
Are constantly moving:
bobbing along to the beat;
His internal rhythm speaking volumes

The train pulls into the next station,
And he indicates his departure.
He smiles politely,
Before alighting,
And re-entering the wider world