Going Home

by Emily Page

Clocks ticking, alarms bleeping
Coats and jackets dressing, bags packing.
Cheery goodbyes and “see you tomorrows”
It’s time for the journey home.

Heels tap, tapping,
Feel the air rushing,
To the tube, walking,
Commuters hurrying,
We’re on our journey home.

Tickets checking, barriers slamming,
Tourists slowing, escalators jamming,
To announcements listening,
Will they alter our journey home?

A tube train rushing,
Passengers pushing,
Crowds jostling,
Will we make our connections on the journey home?

Doors opening, anxiously waiting,
For tunnels searching,
Up escalators running,
Departure boards watching, seats spying,
Still running,
We’re on our journey home.

Tunnels winding,
Train drivers announcing,
Trains stopping, passengers boarding,
From windows staring,
Minds tiring, views watching,
It’s part of the journey home.

Heads nodding, Blackberries ringing,
Partners reassuring,
We’re on our journey home.

Then doors open, weary feet depart,
Cars unlocked, pavements pounded.
Door keys found, warm smells inviting.
We made it. Now we’re home.

© Emily Page


3 Comments to “Going Home”

  1. I commuted to the city for six long years – so your words ring so true and I can really relate to them. Thanks for posting. Thankfully, I no longer have to do that and my journeys home are much shorter than they used to be and without the hassle of the tube at the London end!

  2. Of course, I didn’t mention the books reading, poetry writing which are an essential positive for the journey home! Thanks for commenting Jem.

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