Steep steps off the platform,
On a re-railed trip,
A lad lifts my bag:
My sudden short-stair blip,
Is unstepped-signage
Of now being infirm;
These journeys
my stick informs.

I once held doors wide,
For the fading greyed-few,
I am now a member
Of the stick-crazed crew:
Entrance and exit,
No longer shoulder-shoved,
Now cared for by strangers,
In dignified love.