I was standing at the city rail,
Where I found a poem in a bag,
It was wriggling on platform fifteen,
No ticket or I.D. tag.
Opening the bag as I lifted it up,
The poem jumped out on my knee,
It sat for a while, so I gave it embrace,
And it whispered, “I yearn to be free”.
I set it down softly on the Moonee Ponds line
And it travelled North on the rail
It travelled away, never heard of again
Save for a note in the mail.