(20 minute poetry)

Chaos,
there is no Central line
the drivers are
on strike again.

Each strike
more pain
but we endure,

one things for sure
the tracks remain.

As London struggles in the
absence of no travelling
I couldn't give a toss
if I don't get to work
no loss.

But I left home early
just in case I
had a change of heart,
ha, no chance there
my heart don't race
except when I see
her.

On a roundabout route
all points are moot

Don't know in the dark
if I'll be in the West End
or at Wembley Park
not sure I care
they certainly don't.

If you hear from me
then presently
you'll know that I survived
and I've arrived.
if not then you've got
this to read.