she’s my little lady

My little lady is always there for me, come rain or come shine, sleet or snow.

My little lady is short in stature and large in generosity.

My little lady was shy at first, never meeting my eye, but there she was standing in my path.

My little lady was silent for so long, but now we say the words we long to say.

My little lady is always there Monday to Friday, at the Wharf of the Canaries … waiting as I descend the escalator with an outstretched arm. We take a break on the weekends.

My little lady brings me new and gossip of the days events, and tests my intellect with a Sudoku or two.

My little lady hands me the free Evening Standard.

My little lady and I final say the words we long to say. And with a quick “thank you” we part for the day.

My little lady will hopefully always be there tomorrow, as long as it is not Friday.

And I wonder if all the other commuters notice with comforting regularity my little lady?

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