Four hours and 27 minutes
Feels like a day in this seat
Testament, I suppose
To the departure
Of the son
And the sun.

My arse is numb
Legs are sore
Boxers claw tight.

Uncomfortable.

To my right
Solemn stranger
To my left
Solemn reflection
Bored
The reflection and me.

Fog has shut the stars
Sightless, yet
City lights
In the distance
Pretty at night
Sightless of imperfections.

All is pretty
With a bit of darkness
And a sprinkle of light.

Solemn stranger sleeps
Free of burden
A freedom not shared
Bags part my legs
Boxes stab my thighs
It was plain to see
Yet the chose the seat to my right
I despised him
For
A while
For
His carefree choice
But then, on reflection
I offered invitation
For
I'd placed my burdens
Upon myself.

Selfless suffering ensued
Ensues still
So sleep
Stranger

Further right
Quiff haired teen
Sits with room to spare
One small bag
Steals the spot to his side
Selfish
Or wise
It's him I despise.