“The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.” (Moliere)
On the second line it pitifully awaits the rushed clamour.
Démodé, slightly rusty, dusty and deprived of glamour.
An old man drags his bags up the distant rungs, with absent
Look, while his breath pauses to accommodate urine scent.
A middle-aged woman elbows her way forward while her kid
Drops tears of boredom and exhaustion on narrow halls of filth.
Groups of juveniles push to the bottom of their shallow matter
Their mix of insecurity and self-importance, engaged in banter.
A level further, slightly carved in alterable creeds, students with
Cheap glasses and scarves push hopes to the next waggon of wit.
Through the unwashed windows with rosy handles as through fogs
Pervade fast food flavours, voices and lame barking of stray dogs.
A scrawny girl sits on a bench and immortalises in her cerulean gaze
The sidewalk’s line of still green trees beyond the railways’ maze.
While daddy screams on the phone, in his boy grows a defiant wish
Of tolerance and wealth while clenching his ticket and a plastic fish.
(On the first line it elegantly ignores the rushed clamour.
Coquettish, eccentric, impatient and imbued with glamour.)