Forest Hill Station

Forest Hill Station

Junkies line up by the infant day;

Insomniac, achnied.

Conductors speak in tongues 

Banal, hackneyed.

A graffito declares peace

On the weeping walls 

In magenta and peach

Another declares "Love is phat!"

The ceiling above is laced

With pigeon mess

Passengers greet each other 

Talk about weather forecast 

Our beloved Forest Hill Station:

With your quirks and

Amusing history

(For your tracks were

Water carriers once)

We love you dearly.