The Journey Home - Poem by Angela Wybrow
I arrive back at Gare Du Nord
Only to discover that I'm already off to a bad start.
Due to the heavy snowfall in the UK,
It's hours till my train will finally depart.
I join the already snaking queue,
And I can feel the panic rise inside,
But there's nothing I can do about it,
So my time, I just have to bide.
I listen to the bi-lingual announcements
Telling us there's at least a four hour delay.
I stand there feeling tense and tearful,
And in my head, I'm worrying away.
During my stay in Paris,
I didn't come across many Brits,
But now, stood here in this queue,
I realise many people here are my fellow citz.
I get talking to two ladies,
Named Deborah and Sue,
Who take me under their wing,
And, the experience, they help me through.
Having finally made it to the departure lounge,
My anxiety has begun to melt away.
By this point, I'm feeling pretty sure
That I'll be on a train which leaves today.
In the lounge, there's a real sense of camaraderie,
With everyone chatting to people they've never met.
They discuss their present predicament -
Well aware that it's far from over yet.
The journey back to London,
Seems to take forever and a day.
I sit in my seat, concentrating on keeping calm,
But it's difficult to keep the worry at bay.
There's an audible sound of relief around me,
As we exit the tunnel back into the UK.
We're thrilled to have been repatriated,
But it's been just the most stressful day.
We arrive back at St Pancras.
I grab my case and dash to the Underground.
I rush across London as fast as I can
To Waterloo, which is where I am bound.
I've already heard that train services
Are finishing early due to the snow.
I arrive, out of breath, at Waterloo.
The last train has left, as far as I know.
But, due to a total stroke of luck,
I discover there's been a delay.
Onboard my train, I cry tears of relief,
Glad that things are finally going my way.
It's at half past ten at night,
That I finally reach home,
And tell the tale to my family
Of my experience I endured alone.
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