The Underground

I am in London visiting my daughter and her family for the next three weeks, and my posts will reflect that. On the flight here I couldn't help but mull over the recent events in Brussels, and lest we forget, England has also been a target of the terrorists in the past.

The Tower of London has fascinated my grandson ever since they moved here. When he was younger he overheard a discussion about bombings at the affected Underground Station and the double decker bus on the street above.  Over the course of a few days he processed this information in reference to the things he knew, one of them being the Tower of London. Now a tourist mecca and no longer the formidable prison of earlier centuries. This poem is a result of one of his thoughts.



The Underground


we are going to take
this train    this train
         to visit
       the fabled
 Tower of London

my grandson guide
face pressed against pane

watching the platforms
checking graffiti framed posters
a pony-tailed man limping
away     the Jubilee Line down
change at Baker Street

thirteen color coded lines
crossing, adjoining, diverging
tunneled like the ant farm
in his room    plumbed through history

we pull out, plunge deep
into darkness    the window
reflects his trusting eyes    every
route burned into his brain

he counts the stops from here to Aldgate
        bombings

"Did Bobbies take
    the terrorists
to the Tower of London
    on this train?"

this train     this train



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor