I wrote this poem to remind me that I walked away from someone I could have given a helping hand.

London is busy and unforgiving, there are many youngsters like the boy in the poem and since then I have supported a charity for such despairing youngsters.

However, I am still ashamed that, at that moment, I just walked by.

Boy in the Underground

Just me plus countless other 'achievers'
Decamping from a tube train
A cruddy, mobile tin can
No human contact during the journey
Only the desire to keep some personal space
And not to look any fellow passenger
Directly in the face.
 
Then came the rush for the exit
Down narrow walkways
No place for the lame
Making some money was the only game
Business meetings and appointments to keep
So that each individual could reap
Some reward from this anonymous day.

But in the way
Huddled in a corner, not begging
Just squatting with hands shielding his face
Was a desolate member of the human race
A boy, probably unloved and rootless
Collateral damage from a broken home
No one cared as he bared his soul.
 
I thought about stopping, giving a kind word
Plus a 'tenner' for food...but I didn't
I too had become a drone
Just like all the other travelling clones
Cities are cruel and I was a selfish fool
Because that day I overruled... 
My humanity. 

Copyright © Peter Wheeler 2016.

All rights reserved.

 
                                                         This poem is from my new collection entitled

                                                                    A message to Father Time

If you would like to get more information on how to download a copy to your kindle/laptop/tablet or own the paperback, click here.