Toil

I like the long queues,
People waiting forever for their turn.
I like the overcrowded buses,
People fighting for a foothold.
The desperation of people hanging on,
The exasperation of people waiting on,
To reach their workplace on time,
To clock in the 9 hours, everyday.

I like the crowded platforms,
The people's eternal wait for the train,
To carry the weight of the day's drudgery
Back to their homes of infinite comfort.

I like to see them again the next morning,
The unflinching desperation, the same exasperation.
Waiting for the end of the month,
For the remuneration of each day's toil.