A Poem On the Underground Wall

The last train is nearly due

The underground is closing soon

And in the dark, deserted station

Restless in anticipation

A man waits in the shadows

His restless eyes leap and scratch

At all that they can touch or catch

And hidden deep within his pocket

Safe within it's silent socket

He holds a colored crayon

Now, from the tunnel's stony womb

The carriage rides to meet the groom

And opens wide in welcome doors

But he hesitates, then withdraws

Deeper in the shadows

And the train is gone suddenly

On wheels clicking silently

Like a gently tapping litany

And he holds his crayon rosary

Tighter in his hand

Now, from his pocket quickly he flashes

The crayon on the wall he slashes

Deep upon the advertising

A single-worded poem

Comprised of four letters

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding

The poem across the tracks rebounding

Shadowed by the exit light

His legs take their ascending flight

To seek the breast of darkness

And be suckled by the night