On a Train Seat

As I rest myself on this train seat,

I see at least a thousand lives.

Mostly students, dressed neat

All as bees, going back to their hives.

I wonder just how different must all their lives be?

Maybe they would be excited to tell me?

The hardships they have faced;

the number of times they have aced.

Everyone here would have a desire to fulfill,

some maybe small, others big as a hill.

From the richest to the poorest;

everyone on the same level, some sort of a gest.