A poem about something we might all have encountered in our lives.
The speakers crackle into life,
A raspy voice with words of care.
“The train has hit some huge delay,
You’d better call your relatives.”
You wring your hands and then you sigh,
You wonder so when you’ll be home.
The phone is slid out from its pocket,
With a sigh you dial the numbers.
You inform those who want to know,
A solemn voice, you remain calm.
Then you sit down for the wait,
And hope it won’t take too long.
To be very late is rare,
But when it happens, it’s a bother.
All plans are wrecked, turned upside down,
But there isn’t really one to blame.
You can curse those who run the trains,
Or those responsible for the tracks.
But in the end there’s only one.
When things go wrong, it’s Murphy’s Law.