Dear TFL

You, you, you

Incredible old thing

Of marvel and beauty

That an entire city wants

To take for granted

But cannot.

Where time is pressured

And measured

And split to the second

They made you sensitive

Touched by the cold,

The heat, the flutter of leaves,

The rain, the snow,

The emotional show

Of too many fans

After a football match.

Not to mention the lives

Cut short on the tracks.

You snap

And announce

Your Piccadilly Line is down

And you send out

One man to face

A horde of stunned travellers,

With courage in his booming mouth

“Please, go to Embankment

And take the Northern Line

To Leicester Square for Chinatown!”

You will not

Go gentle into that good night…

You will stop at Northfields

And refuse to move

As tourists scramble for

Flights at Heathrow crying

“Where is your replacement bus??!”

You, you, you

Sprawling network

Of people and plans

Of stops and starts

And movement that spans

This vast and glorious city…

Thank you

For doing the best

That you can