There’s a woman on my platform, a commuter like you and me,
But there’s something a little different about her, why don’t you look and see.
She’s dressed in her smart work suit, an expensive handbag by her side,
Waiting seriously and patiently, for her London Midland ride.
But the reason she has caught my eye, why she stands out from the crowd,
Is that she holds a child’s umbrella, and holds it high and proud.
Glistening in the rain, bright blue; Is it a fish or perhaps a whale?
It’s a dragon, yes a dragon with a red fin and yellow tail.
I hope it has a face, but I can’t see from where I stand.
It protects her boldly from the elements, protruding from her hand.
Now she isn’t looking sheepish, embarrassed or ashamed,
She looks totally unaware, that to stand out she may be blamed.
She stands as if all is normal, her umbrella a beacon in the grey,
She stands in fact as if, it was just another rainy commuter day.
It looks as if it’s had better days, has a slightly wonky skew,
But despite it’s weathered appearance, it still remains a brilliant blue.
Of course true commuter style, people are buried in the morning paper or a book,
But I see them peer up, to take a quick and sneaky look.
Naturally no one would comment, the British commuting public, it’s just not their way,
So they act as if they see dragon umbrellas, at this station every day.
But in the drab of a rainy morning, amongst the grey and black commuter sea,
This lady is making a statement, she is saying look at me!
Perhaps she is trying to get noticed, or perhaps it was grabbed in desperate morning haste,
Perhaps a bright children’s dragon umbrella, is exactly to her taste.
She’s pretending it’s normal, to wave mystical monsters above her head,
While we are thinking are you bonkers, opt for a plain black one instead.
But I’m already making assumptions, as to why she is standing there,
Most likely it was grabbed on the run, so as not to mess her hair.
But perhaps, just perhaps, she’s had that wonky dragon umbrella all her life.
It may have seen her through her childhood days, been damaged by playground strife.
Perhaps she’s used it at important events, pulling it out the cupboard again and again,
Birthdays, picnics, her wedding day as her ultimate, dedicated, protector from the rain.
Who knows what that umbrella represents, who knows why she chose it for today,
But I’m glad she did as the wet wait on the platform, has passed a little quicker I have to say.