Like soldier ants we move in scurried form
In labyrinthine world beneath our feet
Such numbers which at times appear to swarm
Until dispensing horde upon the street
To bid the world farewell when entering
Doth escalate in beating of one’s heart
For claustrophobics, fraught (nay spine-chilling)
Directionless, yet still a path to chart
With destination sought and underlined
We venture forth from platform “O’er the gap”
Becalming of said beat but not our mind
Whilst boarding idle coach which doth entrap
“It seems we may be held here for some time”
Announcement made, results in end of line