"Bowling For Bowlers"

She stands on vaxuhall bridge
wiping the hair from her eyes
gently inhaling the thick
London fog.
she see's the changing times
filter through air
passing through static
Through the tall spires
down through the telephone wires
there a ghastly smell  
on the underground
where freaks
and creeps  
strike at night.
 
She boards the 4.55pm tube
to god to knows where
she sits next to a group
of young baseball hatted
gold chain wearing "Chavs"
they each in turn eye her
up and down  
licking there lips each  
muttering rude gestures.
 
And they say romance is dead?
 
Sat directly opposite  
sits a well groomed man
he reads a today daily paper
she catches the first
couple of words  
its hard to see when  
her glasses still
carry the rainwater
from earlier
he lowers the paper
and slowly grabs  
his crutch and licks
his lips
 
..Once again they say romance is dead!!
 
She looks over to the other side
of the train.
She sees a sea of unfamiliar
faces stare back.
Just by the double doors
just beyond the empty beer cans
she spies a sight not seen
since her younger days
a bowler hat !!!
It sticks out from the  
vest tops and 3 sizes to big jeans
making its presence known.
The bowler hatted Man  
wears shiny black shoes
that by the looks of things
were freshly cleaned
just this morning.
A smart three piece
pin striped suit
velvet tie and handkerchief
a long sleek black umbrella
and of course the black
domed bowler hat
just like her father used to wear.
He nods and tips his bowler hat
in her direction.  
It occurs to her no one
wears bowler hats anymore?
Good manners and dress sense
have been dis guarded for  
"obscene Mumbling" "blank Stares"
and "crutch grabbing"
This bowler hatted man
could he be the one she  
has been searching for?
 
As she exits the carriage  
she becomes engulfed
in a tidal wave
of human garbage
she struggles to make
out the image of the  
bowler hatted man  
exiting the platform.
She runs up the Escalator
past the lazy 9 to fivers
she slaps her oyster card
over the barrier sensor
as fast as he can
she exits the station
still desperately
searching for the  
bowler hatted man
but to no avail
 
Unable to find her pray
the heavens open
and it starts to rain
she curses her self
for not bringing her raincoat.
Without warning her world
becomes encased in black fabric
the raindrops hum gently
on the dome of a umbrella
she looks up to catch sight
of the bowler hat man
she looks at his face  
and smiles
..its her father
he died long ago
but he still wears
that dammed bowler hat.
 
The moral of this tale..
A fathers love is unconditional!!