Thanks Bob, I see the point. The modified Version:
The train on the move
The little girl, her first ride in a train,
bent over the window and clapped in joy;
the mother, as is her wont, pulled her back.
A pensive wife, forced to maternity leave,
waved timidly to her man, as he looked
at the slow movement of platform clock.
A student was anxious, repeatedly looked
at the papers; the certificates he hoped
were worth their weight to secure him a job.
An old man was wheeled to the compartment,
he had a broken hip- some said he broke his
bone first and then had the nasty fall.
The door of the bogie got jammed and
the wheelchair got stuck. The guard
blew his whistle and porter was worried;
the jerk might induce another fall.
With effort the huge load jerked ahead
emitting some puffs of black smoke.
The crows on a pole fluttered for a while
but settled down again- crowing inwardly:
the engine moves in one direction always.
The old man managed to jump inside as
the wheelchair dropped on the platform.
The crowd heaved a sigh of relief,
even as another bone cracked in his arm.
Bemused, I strolled to the next platform.
--
c s shah
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Bob Cooper wrote:
>
> Hi Shah,
> I like what this poem is doing! Each of the characters you describe gives me
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