Every few minutes, a train comes by.
Some people get off, some get on.
One soul, laden with baggage
Watches, going nowhere.
He waits, as he has for years,
For "his" train to arrive.
He frets that he forgot to pack
His dress shoes, his belt.
He checks his schedule (faded, torn).
He looks at his watch (unwound).
"Are we there yet?" asks his inner child
(Hungry, impatient).
Thank God I came prepared, he thinks,
And knew what to expect.
He sets his collar against the rain,
His mind against reality, and waits.
No comments:
Post a Comment