At stations where large crowds do mill about
‘Tis easy to feel lost along the track
When unknown faces stare or scowl or shout
And spines do shudder with the click and clack.
What bustle, this, from work to play to home,
Impatience reigns in transit’s waiting game
And though en masse, each soul feels quite alone
For no-one knows their story, face, or name.
Then lo! What chance, a friendly face appears
And from the crowd a beacon of good will
The heart does swell as friendship wanders near
And warmth replaces concrete’s hostile chill.
Take joy when roaming through this city’s maze
For chance encounters brighten bitter days.
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