The Underground Poem by William Cheesman

Lights flash by
One constant blur, a treat to the eye
The train stops, you step out to the light
The empty tube station, no sounds but that of the night
The fights and the love made on the streets above
This beets a boat, train of bus
As you walk up the stairs your breath spirals away
The fog rises but the cold stays
Brightly lite tunnels, an ever lasting maze
Lost in the new world, shrouded in pollutions haze
At last the blue circle at the top of the climb
Out on the street, the city gently whines