A carriage full of strangers,

Each going about their day,

Each one a Lone Ranger,

With no time to stop and say,

“Please” or “thank-you”,

“Excuse me, if I may,”

For as long as they see you,

You’re standing in the way.

But sitting in the corner,

You’ll see her if you look,

For she has found solitude,

With her nose in a book.