The blurred visage of a transitioning landscape,
The clammer and clack of the iron horse’s speedy march,
The whirring and monstrous surprise of an urgent adjacent train,
Creaks and screeches of metals colliding constantly,
A continuous drone of the air-conditioning apparatus,
Firm seats that provide minor comfort in their unattractive red and tan leather,
A faux cheery ticket collector whose presence assures authority,
Mild artificial lights which illuminate a quiet scene,
Innumerable strangers with stories all their own,
A commute to start and end my day,
The transition, silent and dreary, yet entirely necessary
From a sleepy little town to a city without slumber,
To enjoy the restlessness of a city with an identity of its own
Or be complacent and relaxed in a town with a name unknown
Both are appreciable, but the journey truly serves to emphasize their great qualities