Waiting for the train

I was waiting for the train the other day. It was early afternoon and I thought it wouldn't be too busy, but there were lots of people milling about and chattering. With a few minutes before the train was due, I found a seat and made some notes, and for some strange reason, Tennyson's The Charge of the Light Brigade popped into my head. Perhaps the galloping rhythm reminded me of the train's movement. Anyway, here's the result.

French to the right of me,
Italian to the left of me,
a loud guy on his mobile on the edge of the platform.
Travellers tugging wheelies,
passengers pushing buggies,
a disembodied voice echoes from the speakers.
Footsteps, laughter, chatter.
Backpacks, bum-bags, handbags.
A humming train pulls in, sighs, stops. I push on.