She leaves her office from daily labours, With her mind relieved, her life so free, She joins a society of 5pm neighbors, Who also left their labor and flee, She tries to hold the peace of this moment, But in reality, she hobbles alone, In her world of silence, pain and torment, Unassisted, unescorted, solo. Her heart is pure, naive to sorted ill, But she does have the edge to fight, Patient as required, with a spirit to will, Tis the lifestyle that forced her plight, She enters her train, sighed as she sits, Relieved of her pain driven might, With her eyes close, she gathers her wits, With her twill in her hand she writes, “Her hair billows in the swirling wind, Her sundress graces her soft velvety skin; The sun rays accents her bold curve lines, As she sashay among the lushy green pines; Each blade bows at her dainty feet, Butterflies flutter to her essence, so sweet, She smiles at the lilies so tall, they lean, and the fillies graze in a faraway scene”. “Next stop...Penn station”!!!! Startled; she opens her eyes to the moment, Life is alive, no longer a torment, She braves her loneliness. But she has her smile. She walks off her train sashaying, On the brick, mortar and tile.